Through Grey Eyes: Teddy's Birth (A Fifty Father's Day Special)
by AshBax
Summary: This is the story of Teddy's birth told through Christian's eyes, as promised to the loyal readers of my other Fifty FF. Hope you guys enjoy this wild and crazy ride!
1. Chapter 1

_**Here's the first part of the Father's Day Story I promised. The second part coming in the next few days. This part leads up to Teddy's birth, the next part he is born. Thank you for reading!**_

"Where's the nipple butter?" I ask, frantically searching through the bathroom drawers. I just bought a jumbo tube of the really good stuff. The kind recommended by 3 out of 4 women with excess sensitivity and chafing. Why the fourth one didn't like it remains a mystery. Maybe she's just a bitch who likes to fuck up surveys.

"I don't think you'll need it, sir." Taylor says, walking in from the bedroom, fiddling around with Ana's nursing nighty.

"How would you possibly know that?" I rifle through premenstrual drugs and feminine products she hasn't used for months, and pull out some chamomile lavender bath salts I find. That might help relax her when she's in the throws of it. I wonder if there's a tub in the hospital room, so I can bathe her. Maybe I can have a claw footed number installed. I hold onto them as I continue my search for the mammary ointment.

"It usually takes a few days before it's necessary. Plus, the hospital has supplies should Mrs. Grey need any following the birth." How did he get so knowledgeable about necessities and availability of breast creams in a medical environment? And what the fuck right does he have to tell me what my wife's nipples need? Sometimes I wonder about him. What he does late nights.

"You can't trust hospitals these days!" And I'm not taking any chances with the comfort of Ana's nipples. God, were they sensitive last night. She came three times fast with just a little tugging and tickle of the teeth. And I was rewarded with my first taste of breast milk. Glorious, indeed. I'm looking forward to some late night feedings. After the baby is well fed, of course. I'll take the leftovers.

To my delight, I find my mommy lube tube and rush back into the bedroom to place it in the toiletry bag in Ana's suitcase, which is lying open on our bed. I'm overseeing it's packing. I'm not taking any chances we miss anything, so I have a checklist I printed off from the bump website. And I don't want Ana doing any heavy lifting to pack, even though the heaviest lifting has been her bathrobe and a portable sounds of nature machine with coordinating essential oils diffuser. I've heard the rainforest toads and smelled the pine. It's going to feel like a spa in that birthing room. She'll never want to leave.

"Speaking of the hospital," I say as I nestle breast pads into a side pocket. "I want an entire floor to ourselves. I don't want any germs breathed on Ana or the baby." And I certainly don't want any wandering diseased perverts trying to get a glimpse of my Ana in her natural state.

"Germs, sir?"

"Germs. I've been doing my research. Do you know how many sick people are in a hospital at any given time?"

"I'd assume a majority, sir." Is he making fun of me? I can never tell. His expression is always the same. Nothing.

"No one gets near either of them until Welch does thorough background checks and everyone signs an NDA."

"Yes, sir."

"And I want floral arrangements around."

"Floral arrangements?" Wait, I was wrong. He looks slightly puzzled.

"Yes, I want it to feel pretty and romantic with candles lit and everything. She likes flowers. Kill the fluorescent overhead lights. Bring in the crew who worked on our wedding. I want her to forget that she's at the hospital."

"I don't think you can light candles in a hospital, Mr. Grey."

"Make it happen!" Jesus, why does he argue with me at every step?

He nods, but not enthusiastically.

"I want to make sure this birth is seamless, Taylor. No surprises." I don't like surprises. I can barely tolerate Christmas. That's why Ana's going to be induced three weeks from Friday. We liked the date. It'll be over a weekend so family can visit and we'll be home and rid of them by Sunday. Taylor's looking at me like he either thinks I'm in for a rude awakening or he's passed gas. But, I haven't smelled anything yet. Judgmental fucker.

"I've already arranged for a large area to be blocked off, with all the security you requested, sir. But, I'm not sure about the entire floor. Other people will be having babies, too. Or, so I've been told."

"Well, get sure about it! I don't care about other people and their babies. The hospital won't either, once you give them a sizable donation."

"Yes, Mr. Grey."

I watch as Taylor folds the nighty and places it in the case. Then grabs another one from the dresser. And underwear. Five pairs of her prettiest maternity panties! Why is he focusing on her unmentionables? I just think he wants in Ana's drawers.

I grab the panties from him, a little more forcefully than intended, but the message is received. No one has their fingers in Ana's panties but me. "I'll take those, you focus on socks."

"Yes, sir."

"The ones with the little anti-skid bumps on the bottom. I don't want her slipping on the hospital floor and breaking her neck.

I place the undies in her little suitcase and pull out my checklist to take inventory. Everything is present and accounted for and going according to plan.

Now, if Ana and the baby will just do as they're told and go along with it. Oh fuck. I may be in trouble...

########

"You can't have fun! You're pregnant!"

"But, I'm not due for three weeks," she says, batting her eyelashes in that way she knows makes my testicles flutter.

"Ana, we've been over this. We didn't plan on this trip. The Heathman is too far and you're too close!"

"But, it's the first anniversary of when we met, tomorrow. Don't you want it to be special?"

Oh, she's using that old trick, huh? Just the fourth best day of my life! The days before it on the list being the night I deflowered her, the night her keychain flashed 'yes', and of course the day she became my wife. The latter taking top billing. I look at her protruding belly, where our son grows. I have a feeling that first day in my office will be moved to fifth place soon. As it should. Meeting her is nowhere near what it's been knowing her.

"We met in my office. That's special. And it's close! I can set up a nice little after hours dinner party for the almost three of us in there. You can ask me questions and I can give you answers." I raise a sexually charged brow and give her a lascivious grin. I have visions involving strawberries, vanilla ice cream and my gloriously juicy pregnant wife laid across my desk, wrists bound with the tie I wore that fated day. Fuck the paperwork, indeed.

She crosses our bedroom, brushing her long chestnut waves, dressed in my sweatpants and a white tank top that doesn't fit over her swelled middle anymore, so her belly button- formerly an innie, now very much an outie- shows. Her nipples are the size of pepperonis poking through the soft cotton. I just want to suck on them for hours, days even. And her breasts- good lord her breasts- are so voluptuous. They're like summer peaches hanging ripe from branches that are begging to be devoured. God, she's so fucking hot. I never knew her being pregnant was going to make me so god damn horny all the time. And I was already horny all the time! It's just more intensified, like I imagine the effects of a psychedelic drug would be. Seeing her about to become a mother just does things to me.

"I don't want to go to your office to celebrate." She pouts, her bottom lip thrusting forward. I have something I want to thrust forward into that mouth. God Grey, control yourself! It's the mother of your child! But, I suppose that's how she got this way.

"Ana, there in no way I am agreeing to this road trip."

"Just think, we could have dinner in the private dining room. I've been craving cod." She bites her bottom lip. My cock twitches, nagging me to agree to cod. Whose side is he on, anyway? Always hers. The side he gets the most action from.

"You can't have fish!" I burst out, remembering my 'What to Expect When You're Not the One Who's Expecting- But, Close!' workbook. "Anastasia, I will not have our child born with mercury poisoning."

She snickers. "Okay, I'll just eat the asparagus."

"Oh no you don't." I remember how she eats that asparagus. Damn. "Meat and milk for you! I'll put in the order ahead of time just to make sure you don't pull anything." I've made her dietary needs a top priority during this pregnancy. Even more so than before. And I will not allow her and my son to share a stalk of asparagus for dinner.

"So we're going?"

"When did I say that?"

"You just said you were putting in the order."

"I didn't mean what I just said, I just said it to say it!

"So, I can have cod?"

"Anastasia, just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're completely safe from me. I can still take you across my knee." Sort of. That would prove rather difficult, though. We tried it at the end of month six and she was like a teeter totter with a heavily weighted middle. I ended up sitting her on my lap like Santa would and giving her a few swats for being on the naughty list.

She steps into me and runs her fingers along the waistband of my pajama bottoms, tucking her tips beneath the elastic gently, softly stroking mine. My cock salutes her efforts.

"Why don't you make me take some meat and milk right now, Sir?" Sir! She reaches her hand further inside, tracing the triangular patch of skin around my package. She's killing me.

"Ana, this isn't working." My cock rises to object. Overruled!

"Really?" She over dramatically pouts.

She slides her hand around to my ass and squeezes my cheeks, then pushes my pants to floor. I'm exposed and erect. Don't listen to your penis, Grey! It's singularly focused. One eye on the prize, so the speak.

"I just want one night away with you before the baby comes." She slides her hand up and down my shaft. Leaning into my ear, she whispers... "Just think, once he's born, it'll be at least six weeks before we can fuck again."

At least? I thought that was the maximum! It's going to be a long, cold summer. My cock twitches at how she enunciated 'fuck'. Fuck.

"Ana, do you really think you can seduce me into getting your own way?"

She blows in my ear. "Yes, Sir." With the 'Sirs'!

My cock and I are waging a battle. Man vs. Beast. I use all my will to control the monster from below the belt from overtaking all my sense and better judgement. I can not let this animal win. Remember your Carnegie's golden rule, Grey! "A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind"...

########

My cock took full possession of my own mind and Ana won. Against my better judgement, I'm driving us to Portland. One blow job and a juicy peach titty fuck with an open tunnel at the end for my train to unload was all it took. God, it was a good titty fuck. I'm cheap and easy and completely owned. Yep, I'm a lucky bastard.

"You had a cousin named Kitridge," she says, reading from an ancient family Bible, sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV. I've had Taylor follow us, with a car packed full of emergency items, and her little suitcase, just in case anything goes wrong.

"Kitridge? Are you fucking kidding me? How long ago, the civil war?"

She squints her eyes to make out the faded cursive. "1897." Close enough.

"Kitridge Grey? It sounds like one of those personal injury law firms that advertises on TV." And definitely someone every kid in school would kick the shit out of.

"It could be cute. Little Kit. I really like the idea of a nice manly name that can also have a cute little boy nickname."

"What and name his little sister Kat?" I rib her.

"Little sister?" Her eyes shoot up to me, squinting them like she's trying to squeeze the truth out of me. Shit, I'm caught. Okay, yes it's crossed my mind. More than one baby... But, I don't want to get into my crazy hallucinations right now. I need to focus on the road directly ahead.

"Just a joke," I say, brushing it off. "One baby at a time, Mrs. Grey."

She looks a little disappointed, but continues her pursuit of boy's names. "Joseph, Marion, Lester..."

"Where'd you get that anyhow? I've never heard of these shirttail relatives." She's been dragging that Bible around for days like she's in training to be a nun. One look at her and you'd know that's not the case, but still she's devoted to it like a sister. Maybe a wayward sister who got in trouble with an alter boy. Hey, that's not a bad role play... I wonder where I can get a habit. I'll ask Taylor.

"Your grandmother, at my shower. It's been passed on for generations. She's very excited."

"She's always very excited." Although, I do remember how genuinely thrilled she was at our wedding. When we danced, she told me the key to a long lasting marriage. To make sure to always take care of 'my forever'. I look over to Ana and smile. My forever. I always will.

It seems like we've been driving forever. But, we're almost there now. Soon we'll be in our suite and I will be making sweet love to my tart little wife.

"Are you very excited?" she asks, sounding very unsure, suddenly. I glance over and see her pretty blues searching me, like a lost, scared little girl.

"What do you mean, Ana?" Why is she asking me this? I've given her no indication otherwise. I've been with her every step of the way. I've never missed a doctor's appointment, a Lamaze class- God, I hated all those dreadful people breathing all over the place. I've read all the recommended books and even the not recommended ones... Does it still come back to that first night she told me?

"Ana, I thought we've been through this. I was just scared and stupid before."

"Not anymore?" I'm petrified, but I can't tell her that. Not about the baby, I'm sure of my love for him now. But, my greatest fear is that he won't love me. He'll reject me just like every other one of my blood relatives did. I'm in deep discussions with Flynn about it.

"Well, I can't promise I won't be a little stupid. Especially when it comes to you. You stupefy me, but you know that."

"I know this isn't how you planned it..." She's starting to cry. Why? I've done nothing, but hate the name Kitridge. No one would blame me for that. Not even him!

"Ana, don't cry!" I rest my hand on her hand that rests on her belly. Her wedding rings hug so tight around her fingers now, but stubborn like she is, she refuses to take them off. "Nothing in my life now is how I planned it. And thank God and for that." I lift her hand up and kiss her knuckles. "And, you."

"What if I'm not sexy anymore?"

What? Where is this coming from? It has to be hormones. I've been a victim of them for nine months.

"Ana, there could never be a day when I don't think you're sexy."

She smiles, but her belief in my words doesn't show proof in her eyes.

"I could get fat." God, if only she'd keep that meat on her ass! If I had a guarantee that babies would keep her eating, I'd sign up for twelve.

"You're talking to the guy who always wants to fatten you up." I move my hand down to her thigh and she giggles. But, I think she wants me. Hell, if she was wearing a skirt I might go exploring.

"I'm excited," she says, smiling now, looking up at me full of hope.

"Me, too." I smile back.

"We have to decide on a name," she says, opening up that Bible again. "We could name him after you."

"No! I don't want a Junior of me out there." God forbid! "Plus, he wouldn't have a cute little nickname like you like."

"Well, we've decided on Raymond for his middle name. What goes with that?"

I decide to share an idea that I had earlier today. "What about my grandfather?"

"Theo?"

"Theodore. He was always so good to me as a kid." He never treated me like I was weird or made me feel different, even though I was markedly so. He taught me how to throw a ball and how to shave. He's a good husband, the kind I want to be now. And a good father.

Her eyes light with excitement. "Teddy. Like a teddy bear!"

"I hadn't thought of that. Yes, I like it."

"It like that, too." She smiles. She's stunning as the early evening light sweeps through the windows and frames her face. Have I ever seen such blue eyes? No, I never have.

I take her hand and hold it, resting our intertwined fingers and kissing palms on her belly. I can feel our child move inside of her. Our Teddy bear.

The lights of Portland are ahead and so is our future. They both look bright.

#######

"The beef was divine, Mr. Grey." She says as I fumble to open the door to our suite. I can barely keep my hands off of her and my mouth from her neck. God, the way she ate that bone-in filet was nothing short of orgasmic. I have this intense need to devour her. I inhale her scent as the door slams behind us, simultaneously cupping her breasts through the silken fabric of her black satin cocktail dress. Her nipples are so hard and ready, I know I'm going to get another taste tonight.

"Oh, I have some better beef for you." My erection is firm against her ass as I grind against her.

"What are you doing, Mr. Grey?"

I start to unzip the back of her dress, moving my mouth down her skin with it.

"Trying to fuck the sexiest woman I have ever met."

I slide the open dress off her shoulders and it drops, pooling at her feet. She steps out of it. Her pregnant body is glorious.

"Appropriate today of all days."

I unhook her bra and peel it off her soft, milky shoulders, nipping them as it cascades down.

"I was thinking about fucking you then, too. You just didn't know it. I masked it with my charm."

She giggles and I move my mouth to her breast and suckle her erect nipple. She combs her fingers through my hair, pulling and twisting it as she moans. I'm rewarded with a few drops of her milk. It does a body good.

"Were you?"

I take the other breast and do the same.

"I was a wicked boy back in those days, until my wife tamed me." I continue to suck and kneed with my hands. It's so fucking satisfying to feast from her.

"I don't think much has changed. You're still a kinky fucker."

"And you love it." I tug her nipple between my teeth.

She pulls my face up to meet hers, wanting to kiss me, but her belly gets in between us.

"There's more of you, Mrs. Grey. I like it."

I place my hands on her bump, that's no longer a bump, but more a balloon expanded to full capacity, and lean down to kiss it. The baby starts moving a bit. I'll never get used to that. It floors me every time. The life we created together.

"Hey, there little man," I whisper against her skin. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to have my way with your mother." Ana laughs. The baby kicks. "I think he likes his first stay at the Heathman."

"Actually, it's his second," she reminds me. "We just didn't know it yet."

I smile against her belly, remembering her birthday. We were days away from finding out about her pregnancy. Days away from me walking out on her and then everything that happened. I shudder. I don't want to think about that now. One more quick kiss for my boy and I stand up and hold the beautiful face of my wife. "God, I love you Mrs. Grey." I step to the right, to give her belly its space, and lean in to kiss her mouth.

"I love you, too," she whispers, breathlessly, against my lips as our kiss deepens. "Now fuck me, Mr. Grey!"

I pull back and smile. "We aim to please."

I rip off my jacket and throw it. She gets to work on my shirt buttons, while I kick off my shoes and rid myself of pants. In no time, I'm naked and ready.

I peel her panties down her thighs to the floor, teasing her with my fingers as they fall. She's so wet already. Without further adieu, I help her onto the bed, propping pillows to make her comfortable as she stands on all fours.

"Reminds me of the first time I saw you." I whisper in her ear from behind, then nip. "All fours on my floor."

"I'm sure this wasn't the view you were thinking of back then," she says, regarding her swollen middle.

"Oh, it is so much better, Mrs. Grey." I make my way down her spine with my mouth, taking extra special care to kneed and caress her rear. I stand and give it a good smack. She gasps, then giggles. "Don't laugh or I'll spank you again." Of course, she laughs. Temptress. So, I fulfill her want with a good swat.

I place a finger, then two inside of her and move them in and out. She whimpers. She's so ready. Holding my erection, I ease myself inside of her. She moans like a cat in heat. It's so primal, animalistic. God, she feels so good. I just want to lose myself in her and I do. I start to move, slowly at first, but then I pick up the tempo, thrusting in and out of her with reckless abandon.

"Harder, Christian!"

I pick up the pace.

"Pound me!"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Fuck me!" It's a demand, not a request. Damn, it's hot.

I really start fucking her. I can feel her tightening around me. I know she's close.

"Come for me, Ana!" She cries out loudly, her whole body quaking and vibrating as she finds her release. I find mine a moment later, calling out her name, pouring myself inside of her, violently.

"Oh God, that was amazing, Christian!"

"Oh, Ana," I pant, laying my head on her back. We're both sated, breathless. I don't want to disconnect, but I pull myself out of her, ready to cuddle with her under the sheets, when it happens. The flood gates open.

 _Gush_...

"Oh my god," Ana says. "Was that you or me?"

"It wasn't me." I stare at her dripping vagina.

She just stays stone still, like she's trying to assess a situation that's puddled beneath her. I jump up out of bed. I don't need to assess a thing. I know what this is. I read seventeen books!

"Ana, you're in labor!"

"No, I'm not." She shakes her head, wide eyed, like she's in denial. "I have three weeks until I'm induced. Plus, first babies are usually late."

"Who says?"

"My mother, your mother."

"What do our mothers know about kids?"

"Yours is a pediatrician."

"Ana, I don't care what our mothers say! I have eyes. I saw the flood. I don't care how good a lover I am, there's no way you came that much."

She tries to move, but really can't with the weight of her belly and my pillow placement. I realize she's stuck, so I help her up and to her feet. It's not the first time I helped her out of a bind.

She stands in front of me as we both look at the water stain on the bed. The bed I brought her home a year ago passed out drunk in is the same bed her water broke. That bed's seen a lot of Ana action this past year.

"Shit, I think my water did break."

"You think?!"

"How?"

Oh shit...

"I'm sorry I fucked you so hard."

"You didn't break it." She rolls her eyes. But, I'm too guilt stricken to take real note.

"I don't know about that Ana. You just kept telling me to go for it!" Now, there's a new lake in Portland.

"You're penis is not that big!"

"What does that mean?"

"Forget your penis, what do we do now?"

"We put our plan into action."

"What's the plan?"

"I'm formulating it." This all goes against my original plan that I spent a lot of time formulating. Damn it, I knew Ana and the baby wouldn't do as they were told. Like mother, like son. Think Grey, think!

Get her dressed! She can't go out into the streets naked! I grab her sweat pants and a hoodie and help her throw them on. Then, I put on some boxer shorts and a t-shirt and grab my cell.

"Who are you calling?"

"Dr. Greene." It's the after hours number. Her service picks up. Damn it! "This is Christian Grey. Have her fucking call me!" I hang up. Where the fuck is she? I hope she's not out drinking and dancing. I need her fully alert and her limbs rested. I don't want her dropping the baby or giving Ana bad drugs!

"That wasn't very polite."

"I don't fucking care. I just need her to know I mean business."

"But, you always call her like that. She may think you're the boy crying wolf."

"Forget what she thinks, I've paid her enough to add a floor onto her house, the least she can do is always believe the wolf." She did add on. Welch checked.

I move to Ana. "Are you in pain?" I ask, helping her sit on the edge of the bed. The book said to keep her calm. I stroke her arm. But, I think it's making her nervous.

"No, just..."

"Just what?"

"I've been having the occasional Braxton Hicks contraction."

"What? And you never told me?"

"I didn't think it was anything. I've had them before. It's natural."

"So is childbirth! But, not in Portland, it isn't."

My phone rings. It's Dr. Greene. Thank God!

"Dr. Greene-"

"Mr. Grey. I would appreciate it if you didn't harass my service at all hours."

"Well, I would appreciate it if you'd answer when my wife is in labor."

"Are you sure? You said that last week and it was the burrito she ate."

"Well, I'm fucking sure this time. There's a puddle on my bed."

"What? How's Ana?"

"Without water. And we're in Portland. What do we do?"

"Was it a gush or a trickle?"

"It was a gush of water! We were having sex. I think I burst the dam!"

"It wasn't a gush," Ana chimes in. "He didn't do anything to cause this." Why is she trying to emasculate me tonight?

"Is she having contractions?"

"Mildly. She thought they were Braxton Hicks."

"How far apart?"

"I don't know."

"Ask her." Oh yeah.

"Ana, how far apart?"

"Nothing regular."

"She says nothing regular, but all of this seems highly irregular to me."

"I'd like to see her as soon as possible to lessen the risk of infection. But, knowing her pregnancy, I think she should be all right for a little while. Keep me notified and tell me when you're close."

"Keep your phone on! I'll pay you triple. You can put in a pool, too!" She hangs up. Tell you when we're close? I told you we're in fucking Portland! I immediately dial Taylor. No answer! What the fuck?!

"Stay here," I say, as I head for the door.

"Where are you going in your little shorts?"

"I'm getting Taylor."

I march down the hall in my skivvies with purpose, knocking on Taylor's room door. A room service guy in box hat and matching maroon cummerbund looks me up and down. What's he looking at? He's wearing a fucking cummerbund.

Taylor answers. In full button up pajamas. I've never seen him this way. I didn't know he actually sleeps. And in proper sleepwear! I thought he just propped himself in a corner, waiting for me to call. Obviously not tonight!

"I called you, where the hell were you?" I burst inside.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was in bed." I survey the room. The remote's lying on his bed. There's a box of tissues nearby. I think he was watching porn.

"You've never slept on me before. Why the hell would you do that at a time like this?"

"Is something wrong? Do you need new clothing?" He examines my state of undress.

"No! Ana's water broke!"

He hops to attention.

"Should I get the car?"

"Yes! And call ahead for me. I've decided, the only way we're getting back fast enough is to take Charlie Tango. Is she ready?"

"Yes, I had her waiting in case an emergency arose."

"Well, it's risen like fucking sun in the east! Let's get moving!"

Within moments we're out the door to get Ana. Fuck, we're having a baby tonight. I hope I'm ready for this...

 _ **To Be Continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Here's part 2. It will finish with part 3. I was going to make it shorter, but I had a lot of material I wanted to play with. I hope you enjoy this crazy ride. Part 3 will be up soon and Teddy will finally be born!_**

"Don't let her put anything foreign up her vagina," my mother says, emphatically, as I throw on my clothes, waiting for Ana to get the hell out of the bathroom, so we can go have this baby.

"Mother!" Grace talking about vaginas, let alone placing anything up Ana's, is cringeworthy.

I notice it's raining outside. When the fuck did this happen? I hope it doesn't alter our plans with Charlie Tango. I need to get Ana strapped in, up in the air, and to that hospital.

"And don't have sex with her, Christian! It could cause problems now that her water's broken." She's scolding me like I'm an errant child trying get into the cookie jar for the freshly baked booty.

"What kind of monster do you take me for?" She really thinks I'd try to have my way with Ana now that she's in labor? Even I know that's a hard limit in the world of kinky fuckery.

"I know you two really enjoy each other." Enjoy each other? That's mom speak for fuck like rabbits. This is too much.

"Jesus, Mother. Enough!"

What the fuck is Ana doing? Her blow dryer is running non-stop. And I think she's talking to someone on the phone.

"Ana!" I yell out. "Let's get moving!"

I put the phone back up to my ear.

"Mom, I have a medical question," I say, throwing on some socks. She's a doctor. She should know. "Hypothetically, can a penis break water?"

She starts laughing hysterically. Like my cock is one big joke, or not so big of one. It's a strange day when your mother laughs at your penis.

"Oh Christian, you didn't do anything like that." Why isn't anyone taking the capabilities of my dick seriously tonight?

"I know you're worried, sweetheart. She should be fine. She's not having contractions yet. Just get her to the hospital as soon as you can. First babies usually take awhile." Yeah right, like they're usually late, too? Famous last words.

"Okay, Mother. I'll keep you updated."

I hang up. My phone buzzes with a text. Taylor's ready for us.

"Ana!" I yell out as I find my running shoes. With a slip on and a tie up on each foot, I'm ready to roll. If the woman of the hour would just oblige.

I'm about to yell for her again when she comes waddling out from the bathroom with her cosmetics kit and freshly brushed and bounced hair, on her phone, talking casually, like a teenager on a Saturday afternoon planning her next bobby socks roller skating party. She's having a baby! Why is she so relaxed? I feel like my internal organs are all lit on fire, I'm so nervous. And who the fuck is she talking to?"

"I know, Kate. You're right."

Fuck. Kavanagh. What the hell is she ever right about? She always has to get her two cents in. Two cents? More like seventeen dollars in Monopoly money.

"Ana." I point to her belly, then my watch, and then with outraged eyes make an exaggerated 'hurry the fuck up' motion with my hands. It's kind of like jazz hands, but with more vigorous angst.

"Christian says hi," she says into the phone, giggling at my aggravation.

"Now he says, goodbye," I say, loud enough for Kavanagh to hear.

"Okay, Kate. We have to go. I'll call you from the hospital." She hangs up. Fucking finally!

"Why are you lolly gagging?"

"I like lolly gagging." She gives me a grin and a wink that goes straight to my groin.

"You know what I mean! And don't try to turn me on. Mother says you're not allowed to put anything up your vagina!

She gives me an odd look, but she's not too surprised. She's used to my, as she puts it, 'weirding out'.

"I just called Ray and Kate while I fixed my hair."

"Why?"

"They needed to know about the baby."

"No, why'd you fix your hair?"

"It looked like I was just ravaged."

"You were!"

"I don't want everyone to know that."

"You're having a baby. They know we have sex! They'd be more surprised if we didn't."

"Yeah, but that was nine months ago. I don't want them knowing it was so... fresh." She whispers 'fresh' like it's a naughty word.

Fresh sex? I roll my eyes. "Let's go!" I put my hand around her waist, trying to hurry her out. She stops.

"Wait, I need to pack up my stuff." Why is she stalling my efforts?

"We pay Taylor a lot of money to pack our shit. We need to go!"

She stops me again. Jesus! When this women cements her feet to the ground, she means business. Why she's wearing her beat up chucks on those pretty little feet and not her Chanel espadrilles is a question for another day.

"Ana!"

She looks around and back at our suite at the Heathman and starts to well up. Christ! What's with the waterworks? First one end, now the other.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"The next time we come back here we won't be a couple." She sniffles a tear as my world stops.

"What?" Oh my god! Is she planning on leaving me? Does she not think I'll be a good father? Has that call with Kate convinced her of this? Is that what Kate was right about? Fucking Kavanagh!

"Of course we will!" I say, a little too forcefully, wrapping my arms tightly around her. Her eyes dart up. "They don't dissolve marriage certificates at the hospital when you have a baby, they enforce them," I say, half joking, half trying to read her.

"No," she looks up at me with her big blue eyes. "We won't be a couple." She pulls my hand from around her waist and places it on top of her belly. "We'll be a family."

A family... That makes me remember the first time we found out he was going to be a he...

I'm surrounded by ravenous beasts that are neither caged nor collared, seated in a chair that's too small for my ass. Probably because it was intended for a six year old. I watch a room full of screaming children and mothers who are actively adding more of their monster spawn to the population. I look down at Ana, who's sitting next to me reading a Family Circle or Family Living or some magazine about life as a family with excessive advertisements for diaper rash creams and comfortable shoes. Why didn't she let me have Dr. Greene come to the house? Just because she needed the ultrasound machine? I could've had one of those installed. Ana's so shy about throwing around our money.

"Mrs. Grey?" That surly nurse calls from the door she just opened, inviting Ana, but obviously not me, behind the iron curtain. What's her name? Bertha? Bess? I fucking forget. She looks more like a Bass, as in the fish with a hook in its mouth. She likes to make my life miserable. I think she hates men in general, because she grows facial hair like one. "You can wait here, Mr. Grey, while we have the basic exam," she points and scolds so loudly that every woman in the room stops to listen. "We'll call you back when we want you."

I nod, grumbling under my breath, as I help Ana up.

"Try to relax," she says, giving me a quick kiss. Relax? I won't be relaxed until our kid graduates college. And she wants more children after this one?! Who will probably have children of their own. It's an endless, vicious cycle. My capacity for worry will multiply one hundred fold! How can I keep tabs on them all at once? I'll have to hire an army of investigators and security professionals to map their whereabouts and possible danger zones at all times. It'll rival the CIA! Memories of stalking Ana seem like a breeze. What's she saying? I'll be dead by the time I can relax!

I exhale, watching her go through the double doors and sit back in my place. I hate when I can't see her. Especially in a medical environment. I don't like when anyone pokes and prods her, but me. I move to pick up that copy of Family Whatchamacallit to distract me with issues that family's deal with like dinner table hi-jinx and lice infestation, but am stopped by the stare of two beady little eyes peeking up over top of the copy.

"Who are you?" I ask, lowering my magazine.

"My name is Ocean," says a small boy with snot running down his left nostril like a river as he leans on my leg. He's touching my leg. And his fingers look like they've been rafting through snot rapids. Why is he touching my leg?

"Ocean? That's your name?" What kind of hippie parents does he have? I look around 'romper room gone wild' and see a mom, about to pop with another yet to be named body of water, in a skirt with unshaven legs. Must be her. She closes her eyes, resting her head against the wall, like somebody's beat it out of her. And not in a good way. Must be this kid. "Congratulations," is all I can say to him about that name.

"What's your name?" Ocean asks me, now with both hands on my knee, hopping up and down. Why doesn't someone fucking control this child?

"Mr. Grey." I look away. Maybe he'll stop staring if I stare off in a completely different direction. I fix my eyes on a poster advertising the birth control ring. I wish these women in here would pay attention to it and stop the procreative madness. Of course he keeps staring, and jumping. I cut my eyes back to him. "Are you having fun on my leg?"

He nods, with a mega watt smile that dimples his fat little cheeks. "Yes, Mr. Gay!" Mr. Gay... I have to chuckle. It makes me remember Ana's question that first day.

"How old are you?" I ask, as he continues to use my knee as his launch pad. Is this how much energy kids have. Shit, I'm in for it.

"Four," he says, holding up that many as he momentarily frees a hand from my knee. He says it with such exuberance. Like it's a good age to be and something to be happy about. Four... That many brings back memories I don't need right now.

"Did your married parts kiss and make a baby?" he asks.

"What?" I have to do a double take. "How do you know about married parts?" He points to his mom. Hippies. They tell their kids everything.

"Mommy and Daddy's parts kissed on vacation and now I'm having a sister." Can I shoot myself now? Imagining that hairy legged woman getting impregnated by her man on vacation sends ill chills up my spine. If her legs are that hairy, I don't want to think what other parts look like.

"Yes, I kissed my wife a little too much on our honeymoon and here we are."

He takes a little car out of his pocket and with a 'vroom' races it across my knee. I jump. A few months ago this might have sent me into a full blown panic attack and an emergency session with Flynn. Now, it startles me, but primarily just annoys the shit out of me. Honestly, this boy has no discipline! I don't have the heart to stop him, though. I remember how much I loved my cars at four.

"Don't mind me, just keep racing your car up my leg" He doesn't mind me. At all. I shake my head, noticing that the car is green. "I used to have a green car." I don't know why I just shared that with him. The thought of playing with a green car is sobering.

"Go get it! We could race!"

"I can't." I gulp, the words catching in my throat. Just thinking about it makes my chest tighten.

"Why not?" He's so puzzled, so innocent.

"I lost it." I shrug and look away. The darkness sweeps over me as I remember racing that car by my too still mother. I remember it sliding under the sofa until I couldn't see it anymore. Neither one of them did I ever get back... Don't go there, Grey.

"Is your baby a boy or a girl?" the kid asks, bringing me back to the here and the now.

"I don't know." I turn back to him and lean in, like I'm sharing a secret. He lights with excitement. "We're finding out today."

"It's gonna be a boy!" He proclaims, hands and car in the air.

"Oh yeah, you got the inside word?"

He nods, but I can tell he doesn't quite know what he's agreeing to. He's so innocent still, he has no fear of open armed, carefree yeses. He reminds me of Ana.

"Mr. Grey," the surly nurse calls from the door. "You can come back." Don't act so welcoming, Bitty.

I look down to my little friend, who's doing wheelies on my knee cap.

"Hey, kid. I have to go find out now."

He smiles, picks up his car from my knee and holds it out to me.

"I told you, I have to go. I can't play anymore."

He scrunches up his nose and examines me like I'm a puzzle he needs to solve. He is like Ana. They both have those blue eyes that see right through me.

"You lost your car. You can have mine." He places it in my palm. Unknown emotion swells in my chest as I look into those pure, blue eyes. Ocean is a fitting name. I close my fingers around it. Holding a piece of my past and my future all at once in the palm of my hand.

"Thank you, Ocean."

He smiles and scampers back to his mother to get another car. She pops her eyes open with a jolt as he crashes into her lap and gives him one from her bag. No questions asked. How nice to be four and have a mother who hears you and gives without condition.

I pocket the little green car, give it a squeeze for luck and head back to find my Ana.

Dr. Greene spreads a blob of thick lube over Ana's swollen middle as I sit in a chair next to her, holding her hand. I'm so nervous to find out what's coming. I go back and forth. A boy, I can handle. A girl will give me a coronary. But, then I think of Mia and how much I loved her. She was soft and sweet. And a boy could turn out to be just like me. I shudder. Oh hell, I'm terrified either way. I just want to know that the baby is safe and healthy.

She rolls her wand across Ana's belly and the 3D picture of our baby pops up on the screen. It's a sight that humbles. How we created this life together. Out of something I never thought I had a capacity to feel, love.

"There's the heartbeat," she says, pointing to it. Not tearing my eyes from the screen, I squeeze Ana's hand tighter.

"So, everything's okay? I ask. The baby is healthy?" It's less of a question and more of a prayer.

She moves her wand around, then smiles, satisfied with the results.

"Yes, he is Mr. and Mrs. Grey."

"Oh, thank God," I pull Ana's hand to my mouth and bow my head, and then it registers. My eyes shoot up. "He?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey. He."

"He?" I look to Ana, whose free hand flies to her mouth to hold her gasp. "Ana, we're going to have a him!"

Ana starts to cry. "Oh, Christian!"

"Good job, Mrs. Grey," I lean in to kiss her, emotion welling in my eyes, too. I can't help but deepen the kiss. Knowing the sex of our child, seeing that heartbeat. It all makes it real to me. I have half a mind to kick Dr. Greene out of here and make love to Ana right here on this exam table to show her how much she and our baby mean to me. But, the police might be called, so I reluctantly pull back.

"Are you happy?" she asks me. I wipe a tear streaming down her face with my thumb and kiss the trail it made in its wake.

"So happy."

I look at the picture of our moving son, safe within his mother's belly. There's life inside Ana. Life she's given to me. In spite of me. I am in awe. I examine his face on the screen. I think he has her nose. Maybe my strong, chiseled chin. His little fist is curled up in a ball, like Ana's does when she's sleeping. I want to kiss it. God, is he beautiful. Like her.

I stroke her hair and give her another quick kiss and Dr. Greene finishes up the exam. I reach into my pocket and wrap my fingers around the little green car. Damn, Ocean was right. I shake my head. A four year old stranger gave me back a piece of my childhood I thought was lost forever. This car that I'll save to give to my son. My son. I look to Ana. Our son. God, I'm a lucky son of a bitch.

#######

Fuck, it's raining harder now, I notice out the window as we walk, my arm wrapped around Ana, down the hallway and to the elevators. This better clear up or we're in trouble. I run my free hand through my hair, twice. I can't let on that anything could be wrong.

"What's wrong?" she asks, as we wait in front of the elevator doors. Of course she reads me like a fucking book.

"Nothing!" Doth I protest too much? From the look on her face, probably.

 _Ding_! The doors open and we step into the third elevator. Our favorite one. I hold Ana's hand, while her other one holds to her belly as I press the button to go down. A year ago I kissed her lustfully, wanting her for my submissive and now look at us. We're like a poster board for suburban sprawl. We're all alone in here again as the doors close and we begin to move. But, I have to cool my jets. Thankfully, it'll be a short ride.

"Right about now you said to 'fuck the paperwork," she says, giggling as she leans back against the wall.

"I was rather smooth, if I recall." I smile and she smiles back.

"And rough."

"But, you like rough."

"With you, I do." She winks. God I love when she flirts with me

Suddenly everything goes pitch black and the elevator halts to a jolting stop. Ana screams and I throw my arms around her, holding her into place, protecting her and the baby from whatever harm may try and come for them.

What the fuck just happened?

"I don't like it that kind of rough," she says as everything stills to an eerie calm. Like those moments before a storm. And it's raining outside. Fuck.

"Just keep calm, Ana. Calm and focused. Focused and calm."

"What am I focused on?"

"Keeping calm."

"It's so dark, I can't focus on anything but that." She pulls something out of her purse and hands it to me. It's small and plastic and attached to a key ring. It kind of feels like a butt plug. No, it couldn't be. Although, mother didn't say anything about items up her butt...

"What is this?"

"Twist it." The mystery continues.

I do. The faintest, saddest trickle of light comes out, like it's ashamed of itself. As it should be. I think it's supposed to be a flashlight.

"Where did you get this thing?"

"The bank. They gave it us for being such good customers."

"We're fucking billionaires and this is the shit they give us?" I'd rather have them send a teller to piss on our lawn. Jesus, at least they could give us a real one from the Home Depot.

The emergency lights in the elevator pop on, giving us some knowledge of what's beneath the darkness. Not much, but at least I can see my hand in front of my face. I toss the little shit light aside and look to Ana. I can dimly make out her face. She's all wide eyes and sexy hair. Kind of like the first time we were in here, but with extra cargo. Thankfully, her teeth are leaving her bottom lip alone or else my dick would be in painful trouble.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"No." She whispers.

"What do you mean? Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because it's dark."

"What's wrong, then?"

"I'm stuck!"

"Stuck where?" I feel around her body to make sure nothing's poking her. There's something spearing into her ass! No, that's just me. Getting a little elevator happy in the dark.

"I'm stuck in an elevator with you!" Oh right.

"Just relax," I shout, holding both of her shoulders and looking adamantly into her eyes. "I don't want you all crazy and worked up! It's not good for you or the baby!" I'm out of breath by the time I finish that sentence and my heart is playing a ping pong match against itself.

"I'm just standing here." She continues to whisper. Pretty relaxed sounding.

"As you should be, because I have everything under control." I pull out my cell. Good, I still have a signal. I dial Taylor.

"Sir?" He answers. "Where are you?"

"We decided to stop off for croissants and jam and have a picnic by the lake... What the fuck do you think we're doing? We're trying to get down to you, but we're stuck in a fucking elevator!"

"Damn it." He doesn't sound all that surprised. Why?

"There's been a power outrage. A downed line from the storm. The whole block just went out."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" That damn rain! I knew it would cause problems.

"I would not joke about power shortages." He's so grim. Suddenly, I think he's having a war flashback. Uh, let's move on from that. "How's Ana?" Of course he wants to know about Ana. He's probably wishing he was the one stuck with her in the dark.

"Mrs. Grey is fine. I'm taking care of her. Now, get it fixed!"

I hang up. Ana starts sniffling into my chest. I hold her closer.

"Don't cry."

"I'm sorry," she says, Blowing a healthy wad from her nose into my sweater. "You were right, we shouldn't have come here. Now, you're going to have to deliver our baby in this elevator."

Oh. Dear. God. My world comes to a screeching halt. Life passes before my eyes. Please don't make me deliver this child! I know nothing about birthing babies!

"Hello?" A man's voice echoes from outside the doors. "Is there someone in there?"

"Yes," I yell out. "There are two someones in here and one on the way!

"What?" He's genuinely bemused. "I don't think anyone can join you until we get these doors open."

"Oh yeah. My wife is labor! Get us the fuck out before we prove you wrong."

"Shit. Okay, we're working on it. Don't worry you won't suffocate for awhile."

"Thanks for the encouragement!" Shit head.

Ana's upset. I stroke her hair as she leans against my chest, clinging to my sweater with her sweet little hands. Some guys are working with loud tools outside the doors. I can see their flashlights, definitely real ones from the Home Depot, moving through the cracks. I have to bring order to this chaos. Get her mind off of things.

"You know, if you weren't in labor, this wouldn't be so bad." I hold her to me, rocking back and forth.

"What do you mean?"

"Alone in this particular stopped elevator. Dim lights. Romantic notions. The hottest woman I have ever seen." She giggles and it's music.

"Oh yeah, who looks like a beached whale."

"Are you kidding me? You are more beautiful than the day I met you. I'm hard right now. If I could, I'd have my way with you."

"You lose all sense and control in elevators, Mr. Grey."

"Only with you." I kiss her head, inhaling her scent.

There's a jolt. Ana jumps and clings to me.

"We're fine. They're just fixing things. We'll be out shortly." I hope. I can feel the baby moving around as her belly presses against mine. I hope he's not scared. I never want my child to fear anything. I put my hand to her middle and lean down and whisper. "Hey little man. This is your father speaking." Whenever I talk to my son through her belly, I feel like I'm a principal making an announcement to home room on the loudspeakers. "I want you to listen to me. Everything is going to be all right. I promise. And no being born before we're at the hospital. Do as you're told."

He stills and I stand up and kiss Ana.

"See, unlike his mother, he listens to his father."

"I wouldn't be so sure." She has a funny peculiar, definitely not ha-ha, look on her face.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm having a contraction right now."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yes," she doubles over.

Oh fuck! What do we do now?

"Breathe, Ana," I tell her, starting in with the Lamaze techniques we learned in those god forsaken classes. I think this Lamaze shit is a scam, but she wanted to do it. So, when in Rome.

"Don't make laugh." She straightens up. I think the pain is subsiding.

"What?"

"You and Lamaze."

"Hey, I paid special attention in those classes."

"Oh yes, you did. Not to the class necessarily."

I give her a lascivious grin. "You loved every minute of it."

She smiles. And I know she's recalling that first night wasn't so bad...

"Get with your partners," says the boxy lady Lamaze teacher in high jeans that only a mom could love and a t-shirt that reads: _Bloom Where You're Planted._ Vines of nonsensical flowers dance around the loop heavy cursive script. What a crock of shit. If I had bloomed where I was planted, I'd be a weed next to a crack house, probably snuffed out by someone's shit bottomed shoe. This woman is most definitely a withered tipped carnation who saw her best days at the high school carnival.

"You two having a baby?" Some idiot in a Yankees cap approaches me and laughs like he thinks he's funny. Why is that funny? Because it's so obvious? It's also obvious he doesn't apply enough deodorant. And who wears a Yankees cap in Seattle? An asshole who's trying to stir up trouble, that's who.

"No, I just like to come to these things and watch." I eye him. He starts to laugh, but I don't. He stops laughing. I think he thinks I'm serious and looks a little scared. Good, he's walking away. Mission accomplished.

"Christian, stop antagonizing people," Ana says, looking up at me with that scrunch she gets in her nose when she's irritated with me. I see it a lot. "We should try to make friends."

"I'm not going to be friends with these people!" I think I said it too loud. Heads turn and few give me 'fuck off' looks, including the teacher.

Taylor's standing in the corner, as I requested, watching to make sure no one gets too close to Ana. I want no hands or breathing father's-to-be anywhere near her or my growing son. Their wives or girlfriends or other arrangements are nowhere near as beautiful as Ana. Of course they want to ogle her. I've instructed him to use any means necessary to prevent this. He said he didn't feel comfortable with a taser around pregnant women, so I conceded that that would be a last resort. First being martial arts.

"Get on the floor," Mom Jeans says, pointing us to our assigned stations. Squared off areas with pillows and bags of brand name baby product samples. Such bullshit propaganda. Like I really believe Johnson and Johnson cares about me personally.

Why the fuck are we getting on the floor? She's not having the baby on a floor. I've ordered a custom queen adjustable bed with comfort pillow top padding to be delivered to her hospital room. It's large enough so I can crawl in with her and cuddle to watch the flat screen I'm having installed. Ana must notice my look of utter disgust at the thought of floor dwelling, because she pulls the hand I'm running through my hair from my head and takes it in hers.

"You promised you'd do this without making trouble," she say all doe eyed. Who's she fooling? Yeah, if forrest deer were sexually wanton goddesses. God she looks hot today in her little baby doll white lace eyelet dress. It ties in bows at her shoulders. Like packages waiting to be opened, I envision untying her knots and her dress dropping to the floor. Snap out of it, Grey! You're in a room of pregnant people!

"I'm not making trouble. You're wearing that dress."

"What does that mean?"

It means you're wide open. I don't want these people..." Or Taylor. "Seeing what's not theirs while you're sprawled out on pillows all over the floor."

"Honestly, Christian! No one is trying to look at my underwear. This program is certified."

"So is insanity!

"You would know." She bites. She's a biter, that one. God, I want that mouth around my dick.

"Make sure you have lots of pillows for support! Gotta support all the Mommy's bums." Mom Jeans is so damn cheery, it's pissing me off. Anyone that cheery and overly informative is either mentally deranged or trying to pull something. That's why I don't trust the local news.

I help Ana onto the floor, which is no easy task, sitting her in front of me, between my legs, arranging pillows for her comfort and as a barrier from the other couples surrounding us. I swear this guy in glasses and short shorts next to me stole one of mine. I had nine and now there are only eight and his wife looks awfully fluffed out. I snap to Taylor, who's watching at the back of the room to grab us another one and give 'short shorts four eyes' a knowing glare. How did he ever find a woman to have sex with him, let alone let him impregnate her to carry on his kind?

"Are you comfortable, I say in Ana's ear, as I pull her closer to me. I grab the armful of pillows Taylor hands me and arrange them as he moves back to his place of watch. God she feels good in my arms. I lean my nose into her hair to smell it. She's intoxicating.

"Yes, thank you." She wiggles tighter into me, shifting her ass right against my cock. He immediately takes notice.

"Now," says Mom Jeans. "We're going to practice basic breathing and envisioning techniques, to help you forget about the pain." Forget about it? I'll tell you how. Epidural. "Partners, hold to Mommy's belly." Mommy's belly? That's a little weird. But, I do like Mommy. I look down at Ana, whose breasts are awfully full and luscious today. I place my hands onto her middle, resting them right above hers. Why the hell is she wearing that baby doll dress? I eye Taylor in the back of the room, his eyes fixed on us. He looks like he's doing his job, but I know he ogling Ana's panties. I tuck a pillow in front of her, hiding the contents.

Mom Jeans dims the room and puts on some odd Asian fusion style spa music that transports me somewhere between a Thai beachfront and a seedy massage parlor with happy endings.

"Everyone close your eyes and start with some deep, slow breaths to find your focus," she says, closing her eyes, and inhaling and swaying like she's finding erotic enjoyment in her focus. I'm not closing my eyes. I need them open to protect what's mine. When eyes are closed that's when perverts attack.

Ana closes hers. She inhales deeply. Her bountiful chest moving up and down with the fluid rhythm of her breaths. She looks glorious. I hold firm to her belly, moving my hands down and over hers, playing with her fingers. She leans back and smiles against my neck, giving it a little kiss. My cock twitches in response.

"Imagine you're on a beach," Mom Jeans says. "The sun is warm..."

Ana's thighs are warm as I move my hands down and casually touch her legs exposed by her little dress. She shifts for me to behave, but I know she likes the feel of my fingers brushing her.

"Envision the water..."

"I feel the wetness as I reach up Ana's dress and brush against her panties. She continues to breathe as directed, but I hear the hitches. I look around and make sure no one, including Taylor, can see what I'm doing. Everyone's eyes are closed, following the rules like a bunch of grunion on the run. Taylor can't see beneath my pillow placement. Good, I'm going to make my wife come now.

I run my finger along the right band of her panties, then use the other hand for the left. She moves slightly, a poor attempt at protest. I slide one finger, then two beneath the band, stroking her pussy lips.

"Imagine the waves crashing in and out..."

My fingers find her warmth and spreading her lips, thrust in and out. Ana's breathing gets more wanton. She pushes back against me, wriggling her bottom over my cock. I am so hard for her. God, I wish I could fuck her right here.

"You have to be quiet," I whisper, nipping at her ear.

"When it gets unbearable remember yourself in this place..." Oh, I will, lady.

I'm pushing my fingers in and out, rolling them around the walls of her vagina. With the other hand, I reach in and massage her clit. She wraps her hands around my thighs, about to break through, I can feel it. Then, she squeaks, trying to suppress the sounds of her pleasure, and quakes around me.

"Now," Mom Jeans turns off the music and moves to turn up the lights. I remove my fingers from Ana's panties and raise my hand.

Mom Jeans looks to me. "Yes, Mr. Grey?"

"Could we be excused? My wife and I need to use the restroom.

"I can't believe you fingered me in Lamaze class." She steals me from my fond recollection and transports me to the present.

"I can't believe you let me fuck you in that restroom."

"What did you expect? You got me all turned on."

"We aim to please." I lean in to kiss her. I just want to feel her for a moment. Her soft, sweet lips on mine. The kiss deepens. Our tongues twist and turn around each other.

Suddenly the lights shoot on and the doors to the elevator open. We both jump apart. Four men are standing watching us. Reminds me of that first kiss.

"Thank God! It's about fucking time!" I say, then turn to Ana. "What is it about elevators?" She giggles and I melt.

########

It's fucking poring rain!

I cover Ana with an umbrella as we make our way outside and down the front steps of the Heathman and toward the waiting SUV. The weather is worrying me. I start my breathing with her again.

"I'm not having a contraction now. You're supposed to be in pain when you breathe."

"Maybe if we start early, we'll head it off later." She rolls her eyes. Typical.

Taylor rushes around and opens the door. He tries to help Ana inside, but I move him, more forcefully than I intended, out of the way. No one helps my wife, but me.

Once she's safely inside, I close the door and move to Taylor.

"There's a problem, sir," he says, shifting his eyes from the SUV to me.

"What is it?"

"This rain. They won't clear you to take the helicopter up until the storm passes."

"When's that supposed to be?"

"Could be an hour."

"No, we have to get Ana to that hospital!"

"I don't know what we can do about it."

Fuck. Could this night get any worse? I run both hands through my hair. Please, Ana. Wait it out.

The back door opens. Ana looks at me, bewildered and upset.

"What is it?" I rush to her. She's gripping her belly.

"I need to breathe."

"What? Why?"

"I just a had another contraction." She cries out and doubles over in pain.

Oh fuck.


	3. Chapter 3- part 1

_**I'm splitting this last chapter into two parts, because of its length and I wanted to give you guys something to read while I finish up the rest. The last part should be up this weekend. Thanks for reading and all your reviews! xo**_

Lightning strikes outside the window as we sit in the SUV, stalled in a massive traffic jam. Horns honk. Some idiot is yelling at a bus like he thinks it will answer him back. The speakers in the car next to us blast the same country song over and over again like water torture. I get it, he's not coming back because he's a restless whiskey drinking wanderer. Jesus, it's like the whole fucking world saw the rain pounding down and thought it would be fun to clog the streets and go for a storm chasing joyride, maybe getting into an accident or two along the way to really make things exciting. But, I don't need anymore excitement for one night! There's enough excitement pulsing through my veins to light CenturyLink Field.

"I don't care what the fuck you have to do. I need to get my wife up in the air and to the hospital!" Ana's tucked around me on the back seat as I yell into my phone.

"Maybe you should look into alternate means of transportation," says a punk air traffic control officer with the pompous lisp of some inbred 16th century royal on the other end of the line. Who the fuck is this kid? He sounds twenty-two, wet. How is he responsible for who or what goes up in the air? He doesn't sound like he'd be responsible enough to sort out deliveries of pizzas to multiple addresses.

"Other means?" I run my free hand through my hair and pull. "The hospital is in Seattle! We're in Portland! The roads are closed! What do you suggest we do, fucking click our ruby red slippers together and think of no place like home?" I would gladly kick his ass all the way down the yellow brick road if I thought the Wizard could replace the shit between his ears with brains.

"I don't appreciate your tone or language." Is he scolding me? Oh, he doesn't know who he's dealing with. Nobody does that, but Ana.

"Christian!" She clutches her belly and moans. Fuck, another contraction.

"I don't appreciate you as a human being!" I hold Ana closer, trying to comfort her, as I tell this kid where to sit and spin. It takes ambidextrous skill and coordination to softly stroke the hair of your broken watered wife with your right hand, while the left clenches with venomous rage around the phone in the hopes that it will strangle the person on the other end. "And I know that you'll be out of a job if you fuck with me! I'm tight with government officials."

"Is that a threat? Because this call is being recorded."

"For quality assurance and you are no one of quality, of that I am assured!"

"This tape could easily be slipped to various news outlets."

"Good! Then it will be broadcast all over creation what a fucked up shit head you are and you'll be fired, so I won't have to resort to other measures." Where does this kid get off? Nowhere, I'm sure. Even Friday night dates with his hand are a disappointment.

"Is that another threat?"

"Yes! Don't shut your eyes too tight at night! I'm coming for you."

I hang up on him.

"Christian, you shouldn't threaten people with bodily harm," Ana says, as her pain subsides.

"That was nothing. It's what I do." I shrug it off and she snorts a laugh. "Taylor," I yell out to him as he drives, or rather sits behind the wheel watching the parking lot ahead of us like it might suddenly start moving and he has to be on his racing game. He turns his head to me, expectantly. "Get someone who's at least hit puberty on the phone and garner me some 'yes' answers!"

"To which questions, sir?"

"The ones that will get us up in the air the fastest!" He nods his head and picks up his cell.

"Don't get so upset," Ana says, curled in my lap as I gently rub her belly. I've come to do this of late. Its comforting, like my own personal Buddha belly bringing me to a place of zen. I'll miss it when it's gone. Perhaps I'll have to knock her up again. Don't go there, Grey!

Catching me by surprise, she puts a hand on my chest, right at my heart's center, to soothe me. I'm amazed it still catches me by surprise, even after all this time. But, it no longer instills fear, quite the opposite. It simply takes my breath away.

"You'll have a heart attack," she says. "And then who will be a father to my baby?"

"No one!" The thought of me keeled over dead and Ana shacking up with someone else to raise my son is enough to make me turn over in my grave, rise with fury from my ashes and kill me all over again. It wouldn't happen, though. I'd haunt the fucker away.

"You know what I mean. I love this heart." She runs her hand over my chest center, each beat meeting her fingertips. "It's mine."

"Yes, yours," I smile. I pick up her hand from where it has imprinted the cashmere of my sweater and kiss her palm, then the base of her ring finger where her wedding rings sit telling the world in flawless diamond and platinum sparkle that she is mine and I am hers. She's wearing her charm bracelet. I play with the dangling ice cream cone. I can't wait to give her the gift I've had made for her in honor of her having the baby. If we ever get to hospital for him to be born! "Any more contractions?"

"No, not yet." Her voice is shaky. She seems tense and scared. Much less relaxed than she was at the hotel when we were stuck in that elevator in the dark. I have an uneasy feeling about this. I'm the one who's constantly in a state of panic. Ana's supposed to be the strong one.

"Why isn't this traffic moving at all?" I ask Taylor, who's waiting on the line for assistance with our air travel issues.

"There's a massive mudslide. Half the road's washed out. Major power lines downed."

"Oh, just that?" I roll my eyes and without lifting her head, Ana holds up a warning finger alerting me that I'm doing so. I have to laugh, she can't even see my face. She knows me so well. I kiss the tip of her pointer finger in response.

"They're sending a team in to clear it." A team? It better be the 'A' team with this mess. We need hard core marines out here! I envision an army of Taylor clones taking to the streets in a mad dash fight against the mud ridden road. They would clear it out in no time, with their bare hands. I contemplate sending him out there and starting an uprising with the other disenfranchised drivers, but they all look like idiots. Plus, anything involving the unharnessed masses troubles me.

"Fuck! We may have to go to the Portland hospital," I mutter under my breath. I'm not even sure we can get there in any decent time in this mess.

"No!" She squeezes me tight. "I want Dr. Greene. My room. All of our family." Ana's panicked as she clings to me.

"Okay, I'm doing my best." And it's true. I always do my best for her. I can't let her down now.

My phone rings. I answer it without checking, thinking it's someone important returning my call.

"Hey, bro!" It's not. It's Elliot. Fuck. "Ana's having the baby?"

"Yes. That's the rumor." Jesus, why do people keep wanting to talk to us? And why did I ever give him my phone number? Oh yeah, he's my brother. "We're busy."

"Doing what?"

"Listening to the symphony and drinking Sancerre under the moonlight. What do you think we're doing? We're trying to get back to Seattle to have this baby."

"I heard you broke her water with your dick." He laughs.

"Who told you that?"

"Mom." Christ, I'll never live that one down. It'll be that kind of family joke that goes from generation to generation at holiday tables. A hardy-har-har for the ages. I've spent my entire adult life avoiding talk of my sex life and now it's open season on my dick.

"Well, this conversation has delighted me to no end, but I need to go, Elliot." I hang up on him.

"Did you just hang up on him?" Ana asks, like she thinks I shouldn't have.

"He's used to it. I'm sure Kate does it all the time."

She tightens her arms around me.

"What's wrong, baby? Are you in pain?" I stroke her hair.

She shakes her head against my chest and sniffles into my sweater. I pull out a handkerchief and hold it up to her nose for her to blow.

"Are you crying?" She blows a good one and nods. "Why?"

"I'm scared," she says with a squeak and a snort, as I wipe her emotional little button nose clean.

"Of the storm? It'll be fine. It's supposed to pass..." I hope to God. "Trust me, baby. I'll get you there."

"No, I trust you. I'm just scared of..." She sniffles. "Of having the baby." She squeezes me tighter.

I take hold of her chin and tip it up to me.

"What? Are you kidding me? You're going to do fine. I'm the one who may not make it through." I laugh to try and lighten the strangely, all too sudden sullen mood, but she doesn't lighten. She shifts herself up, struggling to straighten as her belly weighs her down, and places both hands on my face, locking eyes with me. Whatever she's about to say, she means business. Women nine months pregnant don't sit themselves up unless it's serious.

"If anything were to happen, you choose Blip."

Right away I know I can't handle the path this is headed.

"Stop it. Nothing's going to happen." I try and turn away, but she won't let me. My stubborn Ana holds my face to hers. She never lets me look away when I need to face something.

"I'm serious." She strokes my cheek, lovingly, with her soft hands. "I know you. You'd pick me. But, that's not what I want."

I swallow. Suddenly there's a lump in my throat. Ana's eyes are welling up. No, this can't be happening.

"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice breaking as I struggle to remain composed. "Do you feel like something is going wrong?" I inhale sharply, my panic level rising. This isn't like her. Something must be wrong. I feel helpless and out of control. I need to make things right. My Ana can never leave me.

She shakes her head. "Nothing's wrong. I was just thinking... I mean if we're stuck here. And something else happens. I don't know. We never talked about it. Just promise me."

I cast my eyes down and state the simple truth. "But, you're my life, Ana."

She lifts my chin up to her and looks at me with heartfelt intent, placing my hand on her belly. "So is he." My son moves beneath my fingers. Flesh of my flesh.

"Okay. I'll do whatever you want. Let's not talk like this now." But, I'm not convinced I mean it. I don't want to be faced with that decision ever. I'd lay my life down for both of them in a heartbeat, but to chose one over the other is just too much to take. I start to rub her belly again; my little Buddha calms me.

She rests her head against my heart and I brush her hair off her face. My Ana. My heart swells with emotion. She's already such a good mother. Putting our son above herself. Willing to sacrifice her life for her child, if need be. My son will have something I never had. Something I never knew until Ana. Love without condition.

"Mr. Grey," Taylor calls out from the front seat, startling both of us. "I've spoken to Sheldon." Good, I like Sheldon. He pulls shit for me. And I sent him a Hawaiian fruit medley for Christmas. He owes me one. "I have word the storm is clearing in about fifteen minutes and won't interfere with your flight path."

"Thank heavens! Can we go up as soon as we get to the helipad?" Whenever the fuck that is, but at least this is hopeful news.

"Yes," he sounds hesitant. "But,..." What's with the fucking 'but'? Why does he always draw these things out? Every time he gives me important information, he's like a Friday afternoon soap opera cliffhanger! "There's another storm front that's worse coming up twenty-five minutes behind this one. If you don't get up in the air as soon as this one clears, you'll be grounded indefinitely."

"Shit, how do we get through this traffic and to the helipad in time?" Oh my god, this is a Friday afternoon soap opera cliffhanger! Except it's a Wednesday night and I can't wait until fucking Monday at lunch to find out!

I hear a siren and look back. I think 'the team' is here. It doesn't look 'A' to me. Two cops on bikes are weaving through traffic, trying to clear a path to bring these massive trucks with work crews through to fix whatever ails this road. Good luck to them. Cars in front of us, honking in protest, are forced onto the roadside shoulders as the path they're forcibly creating widens.

I take keen note that when the two cars in front of us move there will be a wide open clearing to the road ahead that leads straight to where we need to go. A lightbulb goes off in my brain. There's a reason I'm a billionaire CEO. I cease opportunities when they arise.

"Taylor?"

"Yes, sir."

"You've driven in some bad situations before?"

"Yes, sir." He's wary.

The car in front of the car in front of us moves. One down... My plotting thickens.

"You've had to go pretty fast over some rough terrain?"

"Yes, many times."

"You've never killed anyone doing this?"

"No, not on accident." What the fuck does that mean? I hope he's talking about war and not a casual outing. Forget it, I don't have time to ask. But, I do mentally note that I'm glad he's on my side.

"Good. I'm going to tell you to do something highly illegal, but highly necessary."

"Yes, sir?" I think I can hear him gulp. Since when is he scared of shit?

The car in front of us starts moving...

"When this car makes it to the shoulder..." It's almost there. "Follow the path those cops have cleared."

"But, sir. It's a closed road." He points to the 'Danger' sign ahead. "That's highly illegal."

"I just told you that."

"Christian, we could get into big trouble." Ha. Trouble is my middle name, baby. And you thought the 'T' on my hankies was just for Trevelyan.

"We got into big trouble nine months ago. I was a shit head at the time, but when I stopped being a shit head, I promised you something. That I'd take care of what's mine." I squeeze her hand that's resting on her belly. She smiles and nods, squeezing back as our son moves beneath our intertwined fingers. We're in this together. The three of us.

The car moves. The path is clear. The time is now.

"Let her rip, Taylor!"

And with one lead foot slamming onto the pedal Taylor speeds off like a bat out of hell, toppling the danger sign and driving us down the forbidden road. I hear one of the cops blowing a whistle and yelling something, but soon the sounds are distant. The muddy rode is bumpy and sloshy as the rain pounds down on us. At least this SUV is equipped to handle these conditions. You can always trust an Audi.

Shooting down the road, we hear sirens sound.

"Christian, the police are after us!" Ana says, wide eyed, looking out the back window.

"Don't worry about them!" My donation to the ball is going to be a whopper this year. "Keep going, Taylor!"

Taylor isn't kidding. He is fast. The police are having a hard time keeping up with us under the conditions. We twist and turn, the terrain throwing us around. I suddenly feel like Indiana Jones on his last crusade. God, I hope it's not! I hold tight to Ana and her belly, making sure nothing harms either of them.

"Who taught you how to drive like this?" I ask Taylor, as he swerves to miss something the size of a bolder. I think it was a bolder. Where the fuck did a bolder come from?

"Originally, my mother." Taylor's mother... I wonder if she looks like him. There's a nightmare.

"Oh god," Ana cries out, clutching her belly.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm having a contraction." Fuck. How far apart were the last two? I haven't been keeping proper count with all this, but it doesn't feel like it's been that long.

"Time the contraction, Taylor!"

"I'm driving through the mud, sir." Oh right.

"Christ," Ana wails a good one.

I look at my watch and note the time.

"Just breathe!"

The sirens are getting closer.

"Sir, they're gaining on us."

"Drive faster!"

He slams on the gas and turns a hard left, knocking me into the door as I brace Ana from impact.

"Shit!" Taylor calls out as Ana moans.

"What is it?"

"There's the problem." He points to a mountainous wall of mud covering two lanes and sliding into the third. Rocks and cracked asphalt are scattered across. The third lane is so narrow. But, the helipad is just beyond it to the right if we can get across. "I don't know if we can fit through there, sir"

I look back at the police and then forward to the road ahead. "You can't give up now! You're not a quitter!"

"Okay, but I have to go really fast to cut through. Hold on to Mrs. Grey."

"Faster than this?!"

"Much!"

I hold tight to Ana, who's doubled over as more sirens sound. I wouldn't be surprised if we were one of those police chases on the news. If news choppers were allowed in the sky. I'm momentarily thankful for the rain.

"Just do it!"

Warp speed! Like a hot knife through butter, we cut through the slide of mud as debris falls behind us, effectively blocking the path of the police.

"You did it!"

"Thank you, sir."

"You're getting a huge raise."

Ana sits up, the pain seemingly subsided, as Taylor clips right.

"We've lost them!"

We reach the helipad and just as Taylor pulls to the curb, I know that I've spoken too soon. We're greeted by a throng of wailing police cars, who move to block us in. Cops get out and draw their guns. Over a megaphone I hear "Come out with your hands up." Shit.

"Stay here, Ana. I'll take care of this."

"I'm scared, Christian. They may shoot you."

"They're not going to shoot me." Maybe.

Taylor and I open our doors and get out slowly, hands so high up to the heavens you'd think we were at a southern baptist revival.

"Listen, we can explain," I say moving slowly toward the throng of lawmen.

The burly leader of the squad approaches with ample attitude. His gut spills over his weapon heavy belt as he strokes his baton. I used to do that. I gulp, because I know what comes next.

"Do you two buddies think you're funny?" He asks, not sounding like buddy comedies are his cup of joe.

"No, we're not buddies and we're very serious. We need to get to my helicopter!"

"And I need to get to Miami to work on my tan, but that ain't gonna happen, is it?"

"It could. Do you want me to buy you a vacation? I can send the whole family, if you have one."

"Are you bribing me?"

"Yes."

"That's another charge against you."

"Another? What's the first?"

"Let's start with driving through a police barricade."

"It was my fault," Taylor chimes in. "I was driving. He had no control over me."

"It's true, he's an adrenaline junkie. It's from his time at war."

"Who are you to him?" He turns to Taylor.

"Mr. Grey's driver."

"And you're Mr. Grey?" I nod. His eyes run me over me like a lawnmower. "You're not that billionaire guy are you?"

"Yes, that's me. That billionaire guy." Oh good, a fan.

"So, the rich kid thinks he's above the law?" Or not.

"No, I just needed to get to my helicopter, because my-"

"Oh, so you thought you'd tell your driver here to say fuck you to the law, rip through a no-go zone, endanger the lives of everyone involved and cost the department hard earned tax payer dollars because you wanted to play in your chopper?"

The rain is stopping. Shit, that means only twenty-five minutes to get Charlie Tango airborne!

"We aren't playing! We're on a serious mission!"

"Have you two been taking drugs?"

"No! We're having a baby!"

"Really? And you're not even showing." He shakes his head. "Save it for the judge." He gets the cuffs off of his belt. Oh fuck, I'm about to be cuffed! This hasn't happened since Elena! Terrible flashbacks pound through my skull. My breathing quickens. Panic sets in.

"Don't cuff him!" I hear Ana's voice behind me and see the guns re-drawn. "He doesn't like that!"

"Ana, get back in the car!" Jesus, will this woman ever do what she's told?

"Who's that?"

"My wife!

"She's pregnant," he says, stating the painfully obvious.

"Hence, the baby I said we're having. Stay away from her! If you have to shoot anyone, shoot Taylor!"

The cops look to Ana, who's clutching her belly as she sits on the seat edge of the SUV, and lower their guns.

"It's my fault," she says, waddling out of the car and moving to us with her impassioned plea. "I wanted to come to Portland to celebrate falling into his office a year ago, but I'm due in three weeks. I thought it would be fine, but my husband didn't, but I talked him into it by using sex as a weapon and now my water's broken and we have to get up in the air in twenty-five minutes or we'll be stuck in Portland forever!" She starts to sob.

The cop just stares at her. "Why isn't she at the hospital?" I want to kill this man.

"What she means is we have to get to the helipad to get my helicopter to take us to the hospital back in Seattle, so she can have the baby at home. And when the storm clears we only have twenty five minutes to get up and out of here before another front rolls in."

"I still don't know what the hell you two are saying."

"She's in labor," Taylor says. "We need to get to the hospital."

"That's why you were speeding?"

"Yes!"

"Why didn't you say so?"

"I tried, but-"

"All right. Tell you what, I'm a family guy. I have six kids of my own." He looks at me pointedly "Who all need to get through college." Yeah, I got it. I'll be setting up a six-pack of college funds on Monday. "Since you technically weren't driving, Taylor here stays with us for questions and paperwork. You and your wife can go. But, you'll be hearing from me after the kid is born."

"Deal."

"Thank you, officer," she says sweetly as she passes him and he tips his hat.

"Good luck, Mrs. Grey," Taylor says and she hugs him.

"Thank you for everything!" These two. Get on with it!

"Taylor, I'll be in touch. Legal will take care of everything."

"Go have your son, Mr. Grey." He gives me a heartwarming smile and I smile back. This is so weird, we're sharing 'a moment'. I then do what I've never done before. I give him a quick hug with two swift pats on the back.

"Thank you, Taylor. See you on the other side of the state line."

"Yes, sir."

"Come on Ana, we're running against the clock." I take her hand and we race, as fast as a woman in labor can, inside.

"All strapped in," I tell her as I make sure her harnesses are secure inside of Charlie Tango.

"You still love strapping me into things."

"That'll never change, baby." I give her a quick kiss and hand her her cans. Then, with the swiftness of a puma, I ready myself in the pilot's seat and shoot off commands to SeaTac. We're cleared for take-off. "You ready for this?" I look over to her and pause for a moment remembering the first time she sat in that seat a year ago. I could never imagine we'd be where we are right now. She's still as gorgeous when the moonlight falls on her hair and dances in her eyes.

"Ready. Always, Christian. With you."

"We've chased the dawn and the dusk, Anastasia," I ready for take off. "And now we're going to outrun the rain and chase our future, Mrs. Grey."

She giggles and Charlie Tango is airborne.

 **To be continued... Part 2 of this** **will be up shortly.**


	4. Chapter 4

Before Midnight:

There's a peace in the clouds as we fly through the night sky, just ahead of the storm we left behind and just before the one that lies ahead. We've reached this place of in-between where it's still just Ana and I; just the two of us before we are three. A surge of something not quite sad, but more like the drift of memory left on an old photograph, stirs in my chest. I look at her and the realization hammers that there will never be another moment like this again. A moment when we are just two.

"I bought the Twining's tea because you liked it," I say, the words spilling quickly out of my mouth, like a confession, as I pilot us toward Seattle.

"Excuse me?" She looks at me like I'm crazy, but then again she does this often. It's become something of endearment.

"You asked me the morning after I... relinquished you of your virtue." She giggles. "You saw the tea in the cabinet when you were wiggling around making those pancakes..."

"I remember it well." She seems to be enjoying her recollection. I'm enjoying remembering her wiggle.

"Well, you wanted to know if you were a foregone conclusion."

"You said we hadn't concluded anything."

"Do you think I knew what the fuck I was saying? I was covering my ass."

"So, I was a foregone conclusion?" She scrunches her nose like she smells something foul.

"Do you really think I would've bought tea for just anyone I was going to fuck?"

"It's a big gift, I know." She laughs. That old Steele wit.

"I'm serious." She quiets, seeing that I am. "I never bought anything for one of my subs just because they liked it. In fact, I'd go out of my way to make them have things they didn't like just to demonstrate my control over them."

"What are you saying exactly?" She sounds genuinely bemused.

"I'm saying, that the second I wrote the note for Gail to buy tea that I don't drink, with reminder stars at the top, I should've have known it was a foregone conclusion that I would never have any real control over anything again for the rest of my life."

Her mouth twists into a smile. "You drew reminder stars?" That's what she got from this?

"Not like kindergarten 'you did good' sticker stars, just casual little red ones." Okay, I underlined 'Twining's', too. Twice. But, that's too much information for one night's digestion.

"They were red?" Yes, red stars! She looks so shockingly pleased. I think you just revealed the secret to your complete emasculation, Grey. Who knew red stars would be your downfall.

"We do that in my business all the time to highlight important things." I play it off. Who the fuck am I kidding? I've never drawn stars on my paperwork.

"Do you draw little red hearts, too? To emphasize things you really like?"

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Never."

"I think you do and you are."

"Okay, I am. But, it's not funny peculiar or funny ha-ha tonight."

"Oh yeah? What is it?"

"It's very sweet."

"It's not sweet. Don't call me sweet. I don't believe in that shit."

"Christian, you're the only person I know who could be offended by the word 'sweet'."

"Because, it's meaningless. Sweet is just warm and fuzzy bullshit. It's got no meat behind it. What I'm saying is not sweet..." I reach over and take her hand in mine. "It's the truth. I always want to make you happy, Mrs. Grey." I kiss her fingers and then let go and place my hand on her belly. "Both of you."

She smiles, dare I say, sweetly, and puts her hand over mine. "You're not sweet at all, Christian. I love that about you." She leans over and kisses my cheek.

"Thank you." I try to hide it, but I'm melting. Kisses on my cheek from my girl always make me swoon.

"You're going to be a wonderful father, you know that?"

"What did I tell you about being sweet?"

"I'm not. I'm being extra meaty."

"Don't give me ideas about meat. I have to be hands off of you for six weeks. God's speed to my favorite friend."

"What do you think he'll be like?"

"Horny!"

"Not your dick, the baby."

She strokes her belly as we just kiss the Seattle skyline. The lights are in view and they dance across her face, illuminating her as if their sole purpose for being is this.

"Well, he already knows how to make an entrance."

"Like you," she says, smiling.

"Oh, no. You're the one who makes the entrances in this family. Quite dramatic ones, if I do recall a year ago in my office."

"Family," she tests the word. "I like the sound of that."

"I do, too." I smile. It's true. I'm ready for this now. I hope.

The hospital is ahead. There are only minutes left before everything starts happening. I look at her to capture this final moment of in-between. I want to always remember her this night. The way her hair fell on her shoulders and how she pinned it behind her ear. The way she picked at her nails, anticipating, before she knew what it was to be someone's mother. The shy smile she gives me as moonlight dusts her skin and enlivens her eyes. The way she looked when she was still only mine.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"Just taking a mental picture."

"Of what?" She furrows her brow." I want to remember that, too.

"Just the two of us." I reach over and stroke her cheek. "Now, let's become three."

And we descend.

Midnight:

The bong on the clock of the old bank building sounds twelve times to notify the world of the night's passing and the arrival of a new day.

Anticipating our own little arrival, I start to land Charlie Tango on the roof of the hospital just after the stroke of this new morning. An emergency crew is waiting there for us as we touch down. Some idiot in aggressive glow in the dark pants and vest waves his air traffic directing wands around like I don't fucking know what I'm doing. He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing! I think he took air traffic control school online. If I listened to his instruction, I'd be crashed into the left side of that bank! I wave him off, but I think he thinks I'm answering him back, which just encourages him. So, I flip him the bird and forget about him.

As soon as I touch down, I rush out and open Ana's door.

"You ready, baby?"

"Yes, let's do this."

Some medics move in to unstrap her, but I swat them out of the way. No one unstraps my girl, but me. You could chip ice off of the stares I give them. I help her down and wrap her arms around my neck, carrying her to the waiting wheelchair. She's much heavier than the "over the threshold" days and I'm so fucking delighted.

"Don't leave me!" She reaches out to me as I place her in the wheelchair.

"I promise, I'm not going anywhere, baby." I clasp her hand, moving to keep up as they rush her inside and down a long hallway.

The double doors part, dramatically, as we enter the busy reception area.

"Oh, mother fucking face fucker son of a god damn bitch!" Ana lets it rip, as she clutches her belly and cries out in pain. All eyes accusatorially turn to me as if I was the source her cursing was directed at and I did something unspeakable to deserve the tongue lashing. All I did was get her pregnant, people! Keep your judgements to your own situations.

"Are you okay?" I ask, as she squeezes my hand so hard I contemplate asking them to X-ray it once she's done.

"Yes, just a bad one," she says, gaining composure and exorcising the demon that briefly danced in her soul. I fear he may be doing a lot of soul stepping return engagements tonight. Maybe I should have Claude bring me a thick glove.

A hefty nurse with an attitude to match walks up fast and takes Ana's wheelchair by the handles. She's all fake nails and file folders placed under her pits. She looks like she used to compete in child beauty pageants and from the bounce of her ringlets, she's under the delusion she still might win.

"We need to examine her. Now! You check her in and wait." She points her finger at me is like I'm a dog with a half lifted leg she has to shoo outside before I piss on her toddlerhood tiara.

"What? No, I'm not leaving my wife! What if she has another one of those bad contractions?" Whose hand will she have to hold? The thought of some other man getting his fingers broken under her crunching grip burns a hole through my already hell ravaged soul.

"I'll be okay, Christian."

"No, I told you I wouldn't leave your side. I can't break that promise two minutes in."

"She won't be long." The nurse waves me off and nearly slices my eyes out with her tutti fruity hued claws as she whisks Ana away down another hall and through another set of doors until I don't see her anymore. Fuck! Why are there so many doors at the end of long hallways around here? It's like the medical version of 'The Shining'!

My attention is drawn away quickly by the snap of two other fingers who sound like they're in desperate need of lotion.

"What's your wife's name?" The voice behind the dry snap asks from behind the reception desk. He's rather old and frog-like in his appearance. Not green, but small, bald and hoppy.

"Why do you want to know about my wife?"

"I want to check her in."

"What the fuck did you say?" For a brief moment I thought he said 'check her out'. Just as I wind up my fist for a one-two punch, the difference registers and my thirst for frog blood subsides.

"What's her name?" He says it slow and loud, like he thinks I have a hearing problem.

I eye his name tag on his oversized uniform: _Harvey D., Volunteer._ Little happy face stickers, that I assume signify hospital good citizen merits, are stuck around it. Unless he just decorates with them, which is more troubling. Whatever the case, they look less happy and more deranged than I'm sure was intended. Then again, so does he. Who the hell volunteers at midnight on a Wednesday? Either a saint or someone creepy who likes spend their late nights with the infirmed.

"Grey. Anastasia Grey. We're supposed to have a floor set aside. Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"The floor."

"I think we're standing on it," he says, looking down.

"I know where the hell the floor is! Where is my floor?"

"Your floor?" He scrunches his nose beneath his thick glasses. "Is that different?"

"It better be! I paid good money for it." He still looks confused. "Where do the babies come from?" I yell, exasperated.

"You should know that," he laughs. A fucking comedian and audience all rolled into one.

"You know what I mean. What floor are they born on?"

"We're on it."

"Oh no, we're not!"

"Yep. Unless all those little crying bald people are really the mixed up elderly." He laughs again. I don't again.

I look at the horrors before me. The place is packed with people! It's like Grand Central Station, except no one looks to be leaving on any midnight trains to Georgia or anywhere else for that matter. It's like every mom-to-be sent out party invites to first, second and twenty-third cousins and they all RSVP'd yes plus a baker's dozen. A passing man with celebratory pink balloons and one of those fruit bouquet baskets coughs as he passes, so aggressively close to my ear, I think I might need a shot of some kind. I feel sorry for whoever consumes the chunks of melons that spell 'girl' he sneezed on.

"Well, this floor needs to be swept of the population. I had arrangements that no one would be breathing around or touching my wife or son."

He looks at me like that sounds confusing.

"Let's consult the computer," he says, rubbing his mouse like it's a crystal ball. He types with slightly less skill than his amphibious brethren. "Can't find you. Was it Black or White?"

"Grey!"

"Haha, a mix of the two." He really thinks he's funny. "You're not due for three weeks," he reads from his screen, like he's informing me of my mistaken dinner reservation.

"Circumstances have obviously changed." Fuck, I wish Taylor wasn't jailed, so he could take care of all this. He's so much better at dealing with idiots than I am.

"We don't have any floor for you and the room you requested is taken."

"What? By who?"

"The Delfozzio triplets." He motions over to a laughing man in a t-shirt that clings to his surgically altered pecks, chatting it up with a few young nurses. The fucker. He's flirting and flexing for medical staff while his wife is having three of his brood in my room! Papa Delfozzio is now my sworn enemy.

"Get rid of them!"

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"They booked in advance."

"I booked in advance!"

"And you can have your room in three weeks. But, no floor."

"Well, what the fuck do I get now?"

I stand in the room of a pauper. No flowers. No pomp. Just the shit circumstances as they've been dealt to me. The room is all white washed walls with a poor quality print of slap happy colored lines pretending to be modern art to confuse the eyes and make you forget you're in a glorified asylum. I would get out my sounds of nature machine and burn my aromatic oils for Ana's arrival, but I suddenly recall we forgot her hospital bag and other necessities in the SUV in Portland.

I pick up my cell to dial Andrea. She picks up on the fourth fucking ring.

"I need my comfort number queen!" I shout into the phone as I sit on a floorboard posing as a mattress. The sheets are so scratchy, I think the thread count is one. And that's giving it the benefit of the doubt. One thing is for sure, no Egyptian would claim this cotton.

"What?" Andrea asks, sounding like she was asleep and it's weird that I'm calling. Why the fuck is she sleeping anyway? Oh yeah, it's midnight.

"For the hospital room!" Or rather tenement closet. "Anastasia is in labor and nothing is here! No flowers, no flat screen, no candelabras or twinkle lights."

"I think Mr. Taylor is in charge of that."

"Taylor's in jail."

"What?" That woke her up.

"Long story. I need you to momentarily take over. And get Welch to give me everything he knows about a man named Delfozzio."

"What's his first name?"

"Welch?"

"No, Delfozzio." Honestly, Andrea! If I knew, I wouldn't have to find out!

"I don't know, but he's having triplets and he looks like a criminal. Get on it!"

I hang up. Damn it, where's Ana? I look at my watch. It's been twenty minutes! What if something's wrong? What if she's in pain? What if she had the baby without me?

I run out into the hall and flag down an orderly collecting pans of some sort.

"Where the hell is my wife?" I shout more accusatory than planned and he drops a pan, splattering the contents on the wall. I hope it's from dinner and not the other kind, because it looks like ham heavy pea soup.

"I don't know, who's your wife?" He's shaking and so defensive. Was I that threatening? Or maybe he has something to worry about in his personal life. I don't fucking care. I just need him to give me some answers.

"Ass fucking cock rocket!" I hear a voice. Ana! Good, she's still pregnant!

I turn to see Ana being wheeled through the double doors- what's behind those fucking things anyway?- and down the hall by that nurse who purses her lips like she's tasted something foul every time she sees me. They've changed her into a little hospital gown and her hair is in two pig tails. She's kinda cute. Although, I briefly wonder whose hands twisted those tails. It better not have been another man with my braiding abilities. I push the orderly out of the way and run to my girl.

"Are you okay?" I fall to my knees and take her hand, kissing the tip of each of her fingers. I've missed her so much in the minutes she's been away.

The nurse rolls her eyes at my demonstration of devotion and starts pushing her, rolling over my foot in the process. Fuck! I jump up. How dare she roll her eyes! Only Ana does that.

"That was my foot!"

"Was it?" She doesn't seem interested. Between Ana's bone crushing contraction squeezes and this, I'll be in a body cast by the time I leave the hospital.

"Yes, I'm okay," Ana says. "Just uncomfortable." Forgetting the throbbing pain in my toes, I rush along side Ana as the nurse wheels her to the room.

"We need pain meds!"

"I'm sure your tootsies will be okay."

"Not for my foot, for my wife! Give her the epidural!" I shout.

"No, Christian. I don't need it yet."

"What do you mean you don't need it yet? You're cursing like a sailor every time I turn around!"

"I am?" She hasn't noticed? Maybe she really is possessed.

"We're getting someone down here to evaluate," the nurse says, laughing at me as she adjusts the IV that's now in Ana's arm. IV?! They poked her without me! I don't like those long pink nails pawing all over Ana's open needle wound, even if they are gloved now. She might transfer some fungal disease that's powerful enough to fight through latex to Ana and the baby. Lord knows what's growing under those talons.

"What do you mean, someone?" I ask "Where's Dr. Greene?"

"She doesn't give the epidural. We're keeping her updated."

"She's at home?" I picture her lounging on her chaise, sipping a glass of burgundy on the second story of her house that my dime paid for.

"If she came running every time a woman had her first labor pains, she'd never leave this place." What the hell does that mean? My wife isn't just any woman! And these aren't firsts! We've been at this for hours. They're definitely second and third helpings.

She assists Ana out of the wheelchair, but I move in fast to finish the job and transfer her onto the bed.

"Dr. Greene needs to be here! I don't want the baby popping out with just some layman."

"I don't think you're at risk for that right now. Your wife isn't that far along in the process."

"Not that far along? Her water broke!"

She laughs at me again like I'm funny. "I'll be back." She saunters out. I'm sure she has to go tighten her ringlets for her 'Good Ship Lollipop' routine.

Fuck this. I take my cell out of my pocket and dial.

"Christian, what are you doing?" Ana asks.

"Calling Dr. Greene."

"You can't keep bothering her."

"Believe me, she didn't seem bothered when they installed that hot tub for her and her fat, derelict husband to play bob for his balls in!"

"What is your concern now, Mr. Grey?" Fuck, she answered faster than expected. I hope she missed that last part. But, from the sound of her voice, I don't think she did.

"Well, we're having a little party here and you haven't arrived yet. Wanted to make sure you got the invitation!"

"I've been updated on your situation."

"Oh, I know all about your updates. But, this isn't the weather, this is my wife! And we're on category 5 hurricane watch here."

"You're being dramatic."

"Is it the money?" I pace, pulling my hair at its roots. "Because if you want tennis courts, I can make that happen."

"Mr. Grey, I would say you're delirious from stress and lack of sleep, but I know you well."

"I'll show you delirious! Your husband when my checks cut off!"

"Christian!" Ana scolds me from her bed.

"Mrs. Grey needs to try and rest." Dr. Greene sounds all calm, cool and collected. Of course she is, she's wine drunk in her hot tub.

"Rest?" I don't get this at all. "Aren't we supposed to be laboring?"

"I'll let you know when it's showtime. You need some rest, too. Get some."

I test my phone. "She hung up on me!"

"Christian, calm down."

"How can I calm down? We're having a baby, you're in pain, Delfozzio took my room!"

I see the fucker through our window laughing as he talks on his cell phone, sucking a sucker. Probably one he stole from his poor, neglected wife. He's probably talking to a hooker trying to set something up while his old lady is in the shop. All that fucker ever does is laugh, eye women and steal things.

"Who?"

"Don't ask." I think she can tell it's a sore subject, so she leaves it alone. "I'm sorry, Ana."

"About what?"

I sit on the bed and she pulls back the covers and motions for me to climb in with her. I kick off my shoes and start to slide in, but she stops me.

"You're all wet." Still from the storm, I guess. "Take off your clothes."

"I can't do that in a hospital."

"How can either of us rest when you're so wet?"

"I usually say that to you at night." I wink and she laughs, throwing one of her sandpaper covered pillows playfully at me. I remove my wet clothes and throw them on the chair and climb in with her, just in a white t-shirt, boxer briefs and striped socks.

"I wanted you to have a nice room." She snuggles close to me and lays her head on my chest. We barely fit in this thing, but it's nice resting next to her. And I realize, sadly, that the only thing I have to comfort her with is me.

"Christian, I don't need all that stuff. All I want and need is you." She responds to my unspoken thoughts.

"Well, you got me, baby."

I tilt her chin up and kiss her gently and she kisses me back. It's so nice to feel her lips on mine. But, we shouldn't be doing this. I start to pull back, but she thrusts her tongue in my mouth and fists her fingers through my hair. Fuck, it feels good. She really wants this. The kiss deepens and before I know it, we're making out.

"You are so beautiful, Mrs. Grey." I tell myself not to. It's not right. But, I can't resist touching her breast through her flimsy little hospital gown. Ana moans against my lips.

"Squeeze my nipple, Christian."

I try to pull away, but she locks my head between her hands."No, Ana, you're in labor." I murmur breathlessly against her lips.

"Just for a second. I need you. They're so sensitive."

"Ana, I'm not supposed to try anything with you."

"Don't try, do." Her tongue dances around mine like a stripper on a pole.

"Ana!" Fuck, she tastes sweet. I tug her bottom lip with my teeth.

She takes my hand and places it on her chest again. Well, since it's already there... My mouth not leaving hers, I lift her gown up and kneed my fingers around her bare breast, pinching her nipple with my fingers.

"Harder."

I squeeze. A little milk oozes out. Fuck. Maybe just a taste. I'm about to move down for a quick suck...

"Christian!" I hear my mother's voice and break away, covering Ana's nipple from exposure with my palm. She's in the doorway with a laughing Elliot and an ever scowling Kate, watching. I try to act casual and nonchalant, but the damage has been done. My mother has seen me touching Ana's bare tit in live technicolor action. Fuck, so has Elliot! More fodder for holiday tables. "I told you to keep your distance, Christian!" My mother scolds.

"We're not having sex, Mom." But, fuck I'm hard. And I'm only in my underwear! "Don't look, Elliot!" I cover Ana up to her neck with the blanket.

"Man, second base with your lady in labor," Elliot laughs. "And to think a year ago you were an innocent virgin..."

"Fuck off, Elliot."

"Boys, language." Mother looks appalled, but I think there's some part of her that's happy that I'm so deliriously happy with my wife.

Kate rushes to see Ana and I scramble out of the bed with wood between my legs.

"And you're practically naked!" Elliot laughs and mockingly military salutes my soldier. I roll my eyes and put on my wet pants. They're cold. Good, I need that.

"Ana, how are you?" Kavanagh asks, giving me the ice eye for no apparent reason, other than I was touching her best friend's breast and she's the queen of frozen water.

"I'm fine. I'm just ready to have this baby."

My phone rings. It's Welch. I excuse myself to the hallway and answer.

"Fritz Delfozzio the third," says Welch. "Works in the carnival circuit."

"Like as a clown?"

"He's a food vendor. Very successful in various dogs- corn and other. Was loaded, but recently went bankrupt because he tried to expand his services to water parks."

"Are you fucking with me?"

"I never fuck." It's true, he doesn't. "Didn't work out in water. He's broke. No one, including his wife, knows anything. His house is in foreclosure. Has six kids other than the three coming."

"His wife has six other children?" The woman's a baby making machine! That's not a wife, that's livestock. Perhaps he should look into county fairs.

"Six kids by his wife and two other women who don't know about each other."

"How do you know about them?"

"I know everything." It's true, he does. "The one having his triplets is his latest mistress, who used to sell his snacks."

"Interesting."

My other line rings. It's Taylor.

"Good work, Welch." I switch lines. "Taylor, where are you?"

"They gave me a ticket and a fine, but I'm good to go as long as you set up those college funds on Monday." I'm sure that was off the record. "I'll be there in a few hours with Mrs. Grey's things."

"Good. And get my floral design team on the phone. We need ambiance over here!"

"Fuccccckkkkker!"

"Ana's calling me. I have to go."

I hang up and run back to the room, pushing past Elliot, Kate and the photographer- the photographer?!- grabbing her hand and holding it so she can get a good squeeze in. When the fuck did the photographer get here? Two seconds away on the phone and the rock he lives under lifts and he slithers in.

"Hi Christian." Jose says. I can smell his cologne from across the room. It's like vanilla extract mixed with sleazy intentions. And he looks like he put on his best outfit for the occasion- jeans.

"Jose." I try to stare him down with a look of warning, but Ana's really clamping down on my hand. Tears are forming in my eyes. Fuck! Finally, she's done and the demon is gone and I pant in relief. "How did you know we were here, Mr. Rodriguez?"

"Kate called me." Kate snickers. Fucking Kavanagh.

"Jose came to say hi," Ana says.

"He already said that." I know he still masterbates to those photos of her.

"Jose has an idea," Ana adds.

"Oh really?" Just what beacon could this modern day Socrates impart on us?

"I thought maybe I could document this whole thing for you. You know the birth."

"Excuse me?"

"Like take pictures of everything that is happening from now until the baby is born."

"You mean like in the delivery room with us?"

"Yeah. Free of charge. My gift to you both." More like Christmas came early to his penis. Of course he wouldn't charge any money. He'd get to see her in all her spread eagle glory and he doesn't have to rack up porn charges on his cable bill. It's a win-win in photographer land.

"Oh, that would be lovely," Grace says. "You'll want that in years to come, Christian."

"I don't think so." Has my mother lost her mind?

"Why not, Christian?" Ana asks. She really has to ask me this? Has everyone gone mad?

"I'd prefer this to be private. Ana and I have a camera. I'll take the pictures." I glare at Jose. It's my lens only for Ana's love hole, buddy. It's bad enough he took pictures of her getting dressed for our wedding. That was an epic fight and subsequent hotter than hell make-up fuck when I saw those close-ups of her sliding her garter up her stocking clad leg. Now, he wants to photograph our child coming out of her pussy? There is no end to this fucker's depravity. "Now, everyone out. Ana needs to rest and I need to watch her."

"Christian wants to play with her titties again," Elliot laughs. Kate slaps him. For once, I'm on her side.

"First babies take their time," Grace adds. "You should rest, too."

"No mom, I'm closing my eyes until this baby comes!"

4:30 am

I think I'm dreaming of a shark ripping its teeth into my left inner thigh, but I'm not. I wake. It's Ana's fingernails. She's having another one.

"I wanna rip your fucking face off, carpet munching fucker." Carpet munching? She's broadening her vocabulary for filth with each go-round.

"Ana!" I hold her as we lie in this shitty little bed together. I must've fallen asleep! How? I was so diligently on guard and this bed is so hard. Fuck! I'm sure I'll be spurting blood from her fingernail punctures when she lets go of my leg.

Finally, she relaxes.

"Ana, this is ridiculous. I'm getting you the epidural."

Before she can say anything, I fly out of bed and run down the hallway to the reception desk. This feels like a weird dream. Froggy is still working. I think another happy face sticker has been added to his name tag. I don't even want to know what merits he earned during the night.

"My wife needs the epidural. Now!" I pound the counter.

"And you need pants to be out here in the public eye." He laughs. Fuck, I'm in my boxer briefs.

"Just do it!"

I race back before too many have seen me in my unmentionables and run smack dab into Taylor outside the room door.

"Taylor, you made it!"

"I have Ana's nursing nighties!" He looks down at me. "Should I get you fresh pants as well?"

"Yes. Where's the bed and the flatscreen?"

"They can't deliver for a few hours."

"I'll pay triple!"

"I'm working on it, sir. The florist, too." He looks at the doorway. "Is this the room?"

"Yes."

"I don't think all of the items will fit in here."

"No shit! But, I'm making a plan." He looks nervous. Just because the last one landed him in jail? He's out now, isn't he?

We walk inside.

"Taylor!" Ana shouts gleefully upon seeing him. "I was so worried about you!" He blushes. Oh brother.

"Mrs. Grey, I have your things." He sets her bag down. I pull out the sounds of nature machine and set it on 'forrest melody', then add a few drops of aromatic woodland essential oil blend to the attached diffuser and let her rip.

"What smells like moldy wood?" Ana sniffs. I switch it to Caribbean breeze and put in smells of the sea instead, crossing my fingers that it doesn't smell like salty fish. I'm marginally satisfied with the outcome.

There, out the window, I see him again. Papa Delfozzio. Fate has stepped in. I look to Taylor yucking it up with Ana about the night's hijinks, telling his harrowing story of imprisonment, while I weigh my options. Leaving Taylor alone with her vs. getting my room from the carnie. I think Taylor can be trusted for a few minutes. I'm sure he's tired from being in jail. I just hope she doesn't use his leg if she has another contraction.

"There's something I need to take care of," I say, watching Delfozzio disappear around the bend to the vending machine area.

"Christian, please don't torment the staff."

"I'm just going to get you something to eat."

"I'm not supposed to eat."

"You need nourishment!" And I need my room! I'm out the door before she can protest further.

There he is, at the vending machine, looking for change in the return slot. Probably someone else's. No luck. He digs into his pockets to pay for the second bag of Cheetos he just selected, but he's coming up short. His life's story. Maybe he should sell his Gucci moccasins or take out his hair weave to come up with funds.

This is my chance to attack. Panther vs. Jack-off rabbit.

"Buying snacks?" I ask, casually trying to drum up conversation, before I go for the jugular. I know he knows about snacks.

"Yeah, just looking for change."

The light flashes on the machine to let him know he's running out of time. Apropos.

"I could buy those for you... to get you out of your predicament."

"It's okay, man. You go ahead." He looks at me like I'm the strange one. I suddenly remember I'm still in my boxer briefs. Why do I keep forgetting my pants? Play it cool, Grey.

"My pants were wet," I say, as means of explanation for my state of undress.

He cancels his order and I swoop in to purchase several granola bars. Thrusting dollar after dollar into the feeder. I can see it in his eyes. He's jealous of my cash flow.

"Your leg okay?" He asks, looking at the scratch marks Ana left.

"My wife," I shrug.

"You having a kid?"

"Yes. My first. With my wife, who I adore." I say 'wife' so pointedly it could spear a swamp gator. Which is what I'm trying to do.

"Good for you, man. My girlfriend's been in labor with my triplets for twelve hours now. All this waiting... Cramp's the style, you know?" He laughs and puts a few quarters in, selects his Cheetos and pounds the machine, I'm sure in an attempt to get two bags to fall at once. But, the machine alerts him he's short 50 cents. Can't fool the system, buddy boy.

"Let's cut to the chase." I lean in. "I know you can't afford the Cheetos."

"What?"

"And I know she's not your wife."

"I told you that. She's my girlfriend."

"Yeah, well I know you have two more of those and a wife who doesn't know that you knocked up your corn dog lady three times at once."

"What the fuck?" He backs up against the wall. His Cheetos debt forgotten in the machine.

"I also know that you're about to lose the roof over your head because you gambled away your nine children's livelihoods on the promise of water slides."

"How do you know all this, man?" I've got him. Like a deer in headlights.

"You don't need to know how I know anything. But, today is your lucky day. Because, I have a checkbook..." I whip it out. "...and you have my room."

Eureka! The room is mine! I take a hearty bite out of my blueberry-razz nature bar and practically skip back to Ana. Taylor's outside the door on his phone. He hangs it up when he sees me coming.

"The floral team will be here at six," Taylor says.

"Perfect! Tell them to send the works. The big room is ours!" I'd do a happy dance, but I'm in my underwear with Taylor. It doesn't feel right.

"How did you pull that off, sir?"

"Enough zeroes, you can pull off anything." I smile, so damn delighted in myself. "What are you doing out here?"

"Ana's being examined by Dr. Greene."

"What? She's here?" Should I roll out the red carpet?

"Just arrived after you took off for snacks."

"Okay, get going on the room! I want Shangri-La, Taylor!"

"Right away, sir,"

Soon, Ana and I will be in our deluxe queen watching a 60" flatscreen in his and her bathrobes, waiting for our little man to join us. I open the door. Dr. Greene is examining Ana. Everything is as it should be now. Things are looking up!

"Well, you finally decided to join us for the festivities," I tease, more than taunt.

"Hello, Mr. Grey." What? No snarky comeback? I'm disappointed in the good doctor. Maybe it's the early hour.

"Oh Christian," Ana says. What's this? She's been crying.

I rush over to her and take her hand in mine.

"What's wrong, baby? Are you in pain?" I shoot my eyes to Dr. Greene. "Get the fucking epidural!"

Dr. Greene stops the examination, taking her glove off.

"Dr. Miller will be here shortly." She seems distracted. I don't like this.

"What is happening here?"

Dr. Greene looks to Ana, I think asking for her approval. Ana nods. Dr. Greene looks to me.

"Mrs. Grey is not progressing the way I'd like," Dr. Greene says.

"What does that mean?" My chest constricts as I pull Ana close.

"Usually at this point in the labor, we'd see more activity. But, it depends. Some births take a long time. That's not my concern. My concern is Ana's blood pressure. It's higher than I'd like."

"What does that mean? Is she at risk?"

"No, not right now."

"Not right now? You mean she could be later?"

"I'm going to administer some drugs that will help and we'll monitor her closely. And if nothing changes or things get worse, we'll have to do an emergency c-section."

"No, I don't want that." Ana says, that little v at her brown scrunching in protest. I kiss it for her comfort as well as my own.

"Ana, don't be ridiculous. Why don't we just do it now?"

"No, Christian!"

"Ana!"

"Let's give it a little bit. See if the drugs work. I'll check on you again, shortly."

Dr. Greene leaves and Ana curls into my arms, sobbing into my chest. She feels so small and helpless.

"Shhh, baby." I stroke her hair. "It's going to be fine." But, even as I say it, I'm not so sure.

 ** _To be continued..._**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Sorry to keep everyone waiting. Had work obligations, so I haven't been able to finish the entire story, yet. Here's another chapter of our crazy adventure for you to enjoy! Thanks for all the reviews! xo_**

"Push, Ana!" I say, her fingers crushing mine as she labors to bear our son.

"I can't. I'm too tired." She tosses her head back in defeat against the pillow. Her chestnut locks spilling around and framing her tear stained face. Even in the throes of agonizing childbirth, she's a goddess.

"No, Ana!" I lift her back up, dabbing sweat from her brow with a cool rag. She feels like she's on fire."You can't give up! Not my strong girl."

The monitors sound. Something's wrong.

"She's in distress," Dr. Greene yells. "We're losing her." The whole place becomes a fury of panicked activity.

"No!" I cry out, lifting Ana and holding her to my heart. "You can't leave me! You said you'd never leave me!"

Suddenly we're swept out the door by the medical team and led down a dark path.

"Chose Blip," she says, gasping for air and fighting to get the words out, like they're her last.

Her monitor flatlines.

"No, Ana!" I grab her shoulders, trying to shake life back into her. The fire gone from her flesh and replaced with ice. It's a cold I've only felt once before; the kind that invades your bones and never leaves you. "I can't live without you. I won't live without you." My words echo, rolling on and on in a hollow void down the endless hallway in front of us that ends in a choice between two doors.

"You have to choose now," Dr. Greene yells at me. "We can only save one- the baby or Ana."

We're barreling toward the hallway's end so fast, everything around me blurs. The shadowy images on the walls surrounding me loom large. I hold tight to Ana's hand, not willing to let her go.

"Which door do we go through, Mr. Grey?"

I don't know which door to choose. I'm afraid that whatever decision I make, I'll have to live with it.

"Mr. Grey, we're going to lose them both!"

Everything goes black. I can't see the doors anymore. I can't see my Ana. Her hand has left mine. I try to call for her, but when I open my mouth, I can't speak. My tongue won't move. I'm helpless.

"Ana!" I wake with a jolt, gasping for breath. I've fallen asleep in my chair of vigil with my head resting on the edge of her mattress; my hand holding hers. I scramble to my feet and see that she's asleep, and well, in the little hospital bed. Relief blankets the chill that's found nest in me. I crawl in beside her, needing to feel her warmth. Knowing Ana, I've discovered that making love doesn't always involve sex. Sometimes, all I need to do is hold her close. I nuzzle her hair, inhaling the scent that is only hers and only mine. She stirs.

"What is it?" she asks, her eyes full of sleep as she turns to look up at me. Clear blue sparkling through her lashes as the dim light of early morning breaks through the blinds.

"I love you." And, I say it like no truer words have ever been said, because they haven't. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze tightly, never wanting to let her go again.

"I love you, too." She takes my hand and moves it beneath hers on top of her belly. I can feel my son dancing inside of her or maybe growing claustrophobic and kicking to get out. I sigh in relief; they're both okay.

"No, you don't understand the way that I love you." I bury my face in her hair, hiding the emotion welling in my eyes. You're such a sap. Don't let her see you crying, Grey.

"Yes, I do, because I love you back the same." My son kicks enthusiastically beneath our intertwined fingers. "We both do." She turns back to me and wipes my eye with a soft stroke of her thumb. She knows me and my sappiness so well.

"I'll always take care of you, Mrs. Grey."

"Back at you." She smiles. God, she's gorgeous. I've never seen such blue eyes.

"Sleep, sweet girl." I smile, taking her fingers and kissing each tip. "You have a lot of work ahead of you." Within moments she drifts off in my arms.

They're both okay, I repeat over and over again in my head, like a mantra or a prayer, if I believed in that sort of thing at all. Don't go there, Grey. I shake my head to rid my thoughts of a small boy who kneeled alone in a dark closet, praying for his mother to wake up.

I don't fall asleep again. I just watch her, vowing to stay on high alert, to make sure my dreams don't come true.

#######

"That thing is monstrous!" I say, as I watch the scene straight from a horror flick unfold before me. I had been on and on asking for this, but now that the time is nigh, I suddenly want to say nay. "You're not going to stick that into my wife!"

"Christian, it's an epidural, not samurai sword " Ana says, her little legs dangling off the bedside as her back bares to him at the parting of her hospital gown. I stand in front of her, trying to comfort her in this time of madness. But, how can you comfort someone who's about to be stabbed in the back?

"You haven't seen it!" She tries to turn and take a peek, but I hold her head, keeping her firmly in place. "Don't look!" I don't want her to have nightmares. This event will surely be added to my night terror playlist filed under greatest hits.

"I know this looks scary," Dr. Miller, the anesthesiologist says, all creepily calm, like a serial killer before he claims his next victim. "Trust me. I do this to women everyday." Oh, I have no trouble trusting that one. The question is, is it on the job or off?

"This is not a woman, this is my wife!" I hold her face tight to my chest.

"Christian, you're squishing my nose!" Ana protests, rather nasally, so I loosen my grip just a fraction to allow for uninhibited nostril action.

"You'll be out of pain soon, Mrs. Grey."

"That's what they said just before they shot Old Yeller!" I can feel Anna rolling her eyes against my chest.

He laughs to himself as he holds up a needle that looks more like a tool of punishment than an aid of pain relief. And, I know tools of punishment! I've had some big nights, with some big tools, but I've never seen anything like that. I briefly wonder if this guy didn't beat the real Dr. Miller over the head with a club, stuff him in a broom closet and steal his badge, so he could sneak into the hospital and torture young mothers-to-be with his do-it-yourself weaponry.

"Do you have credentials?" I ask, rather pointedly.

"Christian!" Ana scolds. Why is that such a big question? You're supposed to ask policemen to show their badges, why not Anesthesiologists?

"I have a diploma in my office," he smirks. Which office, the cell he escaped from at San Quentin or the lair in his mother's basement?

"Where are you going to put that?" I ask. I'm not sure if it's reality or my perception, but that thing is getting bigger by the second!

"Her spine." He zeroes in on a place on her back and draws a circle with a purple marker pen, like target practice.

"You could cripple her!"

"Only if she makes a sharp movement." Oh my god. I had no idea the risks involved with having a baby included possible paralysis.

"Stay still, Ana!" I order.

"I am. You're the one hopping around." I bite my tongue, in an effort to still my legs.

He readies his implement of terror, waving it back and forth, torturing me with its taunt. He's so proud of its size, you'd think it was his penis.

"It's going to make her feel a lot better."

"That's what they all say." I'm starting to sweat profusely in places I didn't know I could.

"Mr. Grey," the doctor says. "Please stay calm. This is routine procedure." He looks like he's enjoying this. I know your game, buddy. Anesthesiologists are a lot like dominants. They find pleasure in the control they have over suffering.

"Stop!" I yell out, just as he's about to hit his mark. He halts abruptly.

"What is it now?"

"Get a smaller needle!"

"That's not how it's done."

"Who says?"

"Medical school."

"Well, they're always developing cutting edge methods, try a new one now and make a name for yourself in the field!"

"Fucking ass licking twat sucker titty fucker!" Ana screams out, clawing my back as she doubles over in a contraction. I grit my teeth. Fuck, I think I may need skin grafting when this one's done.

"Trust me, it's better than that," the doctor laughs, mockingly, as my flesh is ripped from my frame.

Ana suddenly lets go of my back and fists my sweater collar, hauling me toward her. "Christian, I love that you want to protect me, but stop with all your god damn bullshit! Just shut the fuck up and give me the drugs!" She yells so loud, I'm sure the downstairs cafeteria hears the rumbles.

"Just take a deep breath, Mrs. Grey." Doctor Evil watches as she fills her lungs, probably enjoying the heave of her breasts on inflation.

"Oh my god," I can't help but gasp when I see the thing aimed for the purple bullseye at the center of her back. Suddenly I feel faint.

"Christian, what's wrong with you?" Ana asks, as I wobble from foot to foot.

"I'm right here, Ana." I think. Everything looks foggy.

"You might want to breathe, too, Mr. Grey, you look blue," the doctor says, but his words are an echo. I try to take air into my lungs, but I can't remember how.

The lightning rod is heading for her spine! It's in! Ana flinches.

"Now, I'm going to put the juice in." The juice?! There's more?! Why didn't he do that before? Did he just want to stab her first for fun and profit? "Don't move Mrs. Grey. I don't want to miss." Miss?! My armpits are waterfalls and my back the Nile river. "You may feel a shock, sort of like an electrical current shooting through you. Don't be alarmed." Don't be alarmed? That sounds like kind of thing that if you didn't get alarmed about, that would be alarming!

Ana tucks her head into my chest. "Oh Christian," she jolts and cries out as he loads the medicine in and it invades her spinal column.

I try to stroke her shoulders and kiss her hair, but I realize my limbs won't move and my lips are numb. I think the shot went right through her and paralyzed me!

"Done," he says. "You should feel better momentarily."

"No thanks to you," I mumble and suddenly everything goes black. The last thing I hear is the cracking open of my skull on the way down.

########

I smell peppermint. No, more like menthol chest rub mixed with something. Is it tuna fish?

"I see his lashes fluttering." It's Taylor. Why am I in the dark with Taylor? And why is he looking at my eyelashes? Oh god, I can't feel my own eyelashes! Wait, I don't know if I ever could. Is Taylor the one who smells like tuna fish?

"Look at that goose egg!" Is that my mother? Why is she calling me names?

"Oh, Christian!" Ana! She's crying. Where is she? I need to find my girl. I blink my eyes, that feel like lead has been injected directly into their lids, open to see Taylor kneeled before me, waving some little bottle under my nose.

"Where the hell am I?"

"On the floor, sir." How is he always so calm?

I look around, taking in my surroundings- dust balls, linoleum and a crawling roach. I think he waved at me with his tentacle, but my head could be playing tricks on me.

"I know that! But, why?"

"You fainted and hit your head on the end table ." He keeps waving that bottle.

"What is that smell?"

He reads the label. "Arctic Ocean Nights." What the fuck kind of name is that? There's no ocean in the Arctic. Well, at least not the kind anyone would want to spend nights by. "One of your essential oil blends from your aromatic diffuser. I figured the potency might wake you up." That diffuser has been nothing but a disappointment. That's the last time I trust late night QVC and Deepak Chopra.

I push his hand out of the way. "Enough with the aromatherapy!" There's nothing enjoyable about waking to icy tuna.

"Better get him into a chair," my mother says. It is my mother! When the hell did she get here?

"Yo bro, don't ever give blood!" Elliot. Fuck. Which means you know who isn't far behind.

"Man up, Grey. Ana's the one who took it in the back." Kavanagh. Ever the essence of quick wit and charm. I would roll my eyes if I thought they wouldn't fall back into my head and get lost. Why is my family here? What, did they send out an all points bulletin as soon as I hit the skids?

Taylor lifts me and I hobble to the chair and plop down.

"I just tripped," I say. "I was so focused on that torture device used by that psychotic doctor, I lost control of my ankles." I look up and there's the psychotic doctor, standing all psychotic like psychotic's do against the white wall. White walls attract the criminally insane like magnets.

"Is he okay?" Ana asks Dr. Miller, who hovers around her. He obviously wasn't rushing to my aid. Some doctor. He probably thought if I was dead, he could swoop in and claim Ana and the almost fully baked bun in her oven for himself. Get in line, buddy. I'm sure the photographer would throw a couple punches.

He gives me a quick once over. "He's fine. But, he needs help. I'd ask his doctor for some heavy anxiety meds." He takes off to find his next victim. Good bye and good luck, Dr. Quackerjack!

"I think you need your head examined," my mother says.

"I'll say!" Elliot laughs along with his bride-to-be. They really are made for each other.

"Forget about me." I brush my mother away and reach over to find Ana's hand. "How are you feeling, baby?" I kiss her knuckles.

"Okay," she smiles, stroking my cheek with her other hand. "Except I can't feel anything from the waist down."

I stand up sharply. "Get the doctor back! She's been paralyzed!"

"Honey, that's normal after an epidural," my mother says, helping me sit again. "You need to relax."

"How can I relax when my wife can't feel her feet?"

"Damn, Christian," Elliot says. "I've never seen you teetering so shakily on the knife edge of sanity before."

"Don't fall off." Kavanagh laughs. God, she's a bitch. I rue the day she shares my last name and my Thanksgiving turkey.

My phone rings. It's Taylor. Taylor? I look around. He's gone. When did that happen? I excuse myself to the far corner of the room and answer.

"Weren't you just here?"

"I stepped out to take a call." He's so stealth. Like Batman. Except, he's more like the Robin to this operation. I'm the one with all the fancy cars and new fangled gadgets. Although, I shudder at the thought of us driving around in my R8 in colored tights. "There's a problem with your queen, sir."

"Ana?" I panic. "What have you heard? Have you talked to Dr. Greene?" That woman would talk to Taylor before me.

"Not Ana, the bed. The comfort queen."

"Oh!" Thank god. Crisis averted. But, this is an entirely new crisis. "What's wrong?"

"The delivery men have been stopped by hospital security."

"What? Why?"

"It's hospital policy that nothing be removed from the room and replaced."

"That's ridiculous! Where are you?"

"The new room. Overseeing renovations."

"Good, I'm coming over."

I hang up and move to Ana and kiss her on the forehead. "I'm working on a surprise for you. I'll just be a minute." I look to my mother. "Watch her while I'm gone. If anything happens, call me."

"You don't trust me to watch her, bro?" Elliot smirks.

"No"

I race out the door to free the hostage that is my bed.

#######

"Where the hell is my queen?" I yell, as I enter Ana's new room.

"Here I am," says Armando Bastille, florist extraordinaire, pushing through the team that is hurriedly preparing for Ana's arrival. Oh good, he's wearing pants today. I should feel privileged, he must've felt this was an occasion to dress up for. He usually wears skorts.

"I don't mean you, I mean my wife's bed! Where's Taylor?"

"He said some delivery men were going to jail."

"Jail?! What happened?"

"I don't know." He throws up his arms. "I'm a live and let live kind of guy. I don't keep tabs."

I turn around and I'm suddenly faced with a wall of screaming orange roses in some terrifying, unidentifiable design from the underworld.

"What the fuck is this?"

"It's a floral portrait. The sun rising with fire, like a baby son being born from the womb." He cradles his arms like he's actually carrying a child, acting out his lines. He's so fucking weird.

"It looks like a hemorrhoid that's exploding from an asshole."

He audibly gasps. "This is my art. Madonna and child."

"Where's the Madonna and where's the child?"

"That's up for dramatic interpretation."

"I'll show you dramatic interpretation. Imagine I'm the Godfather and you're the horse head in the bed if you upset Ana with this shit." He steps back from me, flipping the blue tips of his hair off his gold lame jacket, all pissy. "I need calm and serene. I told you, I want apricot fucking roses! Those are Ana's favorite. Does any of this look like apricot to you?"

"It's very haute Paris couture."

"Do I look like I care about what's happening in Paris?" Fashion types always pull the Paris card. When something's a fucking mess, they say it's big in Paris and the masses flood the gates. But, I'm not the masses. I only wear three colors and one of them sure as hell isn't orange.

"It's a sunshine color."

"This isn't sunshine! It's hellfire!" I hold up the aggressive nacho cheese colored flower. He probably has a stock room of hundreds he needs to get rid of because Doritos canceled their next chip launch.

"It came from a top bush purveyor," he says, like I've offended him on some high level. I don't even want to fucking know what a bush purveyor is. Although I'm mildly curious.

"I don't care if you picked them straight from a garden on your bush-whacker's timeshare on the sun, I'm not having my wife look at an angry wall of clockwork orange while she pushes out our son."

"They aren't angry, they're empowered."

"Get me the fucking enslaved ones then!" He gives me a scowl and then turns on his magenta crocodile loafers and huffs off, I hope, to perform his duties. "And floating water gardenias!" I yell. "Within the hour!"

Taylor walks in.

"Finally!" I rush over to him. "Armando said the delivery men were arrested!"

"Detained. They're having sandwiches at the loading dock awaiting word." Armando's so over dramatic. "Hospital security isn't budging."

"I want to talk to them."

"I don't think that's a good idea, sir." He looks frightened. I don't see Taylor frightened often.

"I'm not scared of a few little rent-a-cops."

######

I look up to the towering duo before me. Are they abominable Sasquatch twins or roided up gorillas? Either way, they could crush a donkey with a single stomp and my donkey feels extra vulnerable right now. I'm a big man, but they must be over seven feet tall, vertically and horizontally. And they look like they could eat a side of beef for an appetizer.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," I start, deciding diplomacy is the most effective method, and the least likely to get my scrotum altered. "I just want my bed, Mr.?"

"You don't need to know our last names," the one on the right says.

"Okay, we'll be first name friendly. I'm Christian." They don't look so friendly.

"I am Cristo," the same one says.

"What do you know about that? Christian and Cristo! It's like we have the same name, bilingually. Like sister cities."

"Are you saying I look like a woman?"

"No! The last thing you look like is a woman!"

"This is Marco," he points to the other one. I have a quick urge, from the summer pools of my youth, to say "Pollo" back to Marco, but I resist. "His nickname is El Diente."

"The tooth?"

He flashes a smile, showing us his single gold one. I don't want to know what that means.

Their name tags say they're from Mexico City. I say a few words in Spanish to warm the situation and open up peace talks.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Cristo asks. He's obviously the one who speaks for the team.

"I think, good morning." I couldn't have messed up 'Buenos Dias' that bad, could I?

"You think because we're from Mexico, we speak Spanish?"

"I assumed..."

"Assumed? Like stereotyped?"

"No, I-"

"Profiled?"

"Huh?"

"What kind of fucking racist are you?"

"I swear to you, I wasn't trying to be racist! I was trying to be friends!"

"Does it look like we need another friend?"

"I guess not, since you have each other..."

He points two fingers at his eyes, then to mine.

"I'm watching you. If you so much as wheel that bed one inch from its place on the floor, I'll have you in the can faster than you can say adios to your compadre here." Gulp. I thought they didn't speak Spanish."And there's nothing Marco likes better when he's hungry than a thick and juicy gringo sandwich."

"Would we be the bread or the filling?" Why did I ask this question?

Marco smiles, showing us again his lack of chewing abilities again. But, I'm sure he could get one good chomp with that lone gold one that looks like it's been used as a bottle opener in times of need. They walk off, cracking their knuckles in threatening unison. Since when do hospitals have bouncers?

They talk to a nurse with balloon tits on the way out. I think they're flirting, but it sounds more like a series of ravenous grunts. Cristo tells her that they're having a break in twenty minutes and they want to buy her falafel from the Halal truck on the street. Save yourself, lady, and buy your own shish kabobs. You don't want theirs. Shockingly, she agrees, I assume out of fright, although she does look like her girls would be up for some twin on twin action. Finally, they're gone.

"Fuck, what do we do now?"

"I'd say we just stick with the bed that's in there, sir."

"No, the Neanderthals will not win!" I pace. "Maybe I could just buy the hospital." Yeah, that's it! Then, I can assure I'll get my own floor whenever Ana has a baby.

"It would take too long." Such a 'Negative Nellie'. "Plus, how could we ever get the bed past them before the ink on the contracts are dry?"

"Wait!" A lightbulb goes off in my mind. "They're eating falafel with the whore!"

"And?"

"They'll be off in twenty minutes! That's when we strike!"

"You don't want me to chloroform, kidnap them, and take them back to Mexico City in the trunk, do you, sir?"

"I wasn't thinking that." I suddenly realize Taylor's more fucked up than I thought. "I was thinking that this is how we get past them. When they're sharing their gyros with Nurse Titty.

"If you have any part in this and you're discovered, you'll go to jail and miss your son's birth!

"You're right." Nothing will keep me away from Ana and my son. Not even my comfort queen.

"I'll do it for Mrs. Grey," he offers up, like he's a martyr on the stake. Of course he will. But, I won't give him the satisfaction of being jailed twice in a night for her. He'd play the hero role forever.

"No, you've racked up enough charges for one twenty-four hour period." I pace. "We need someone who can be the sacrificial lamb, in case we're caught. Someone we can trust, who would do anything for Ana, and we couldn't give a shit about what happens to him in the end."

"Who the hell is that, sir?"

I look up and I see my answer heading into Ana's room wearing a pleather jacket, a camera around his chicken neck and a dozen apricot roses in tow.

The fucking photographer!

I race down the hall to Ana's room and find him inside, snapping pictures of her holding his roses!

"What's going on here?" I ask, huffing and puffing from my sprint.

"Jose brought me these lovely flowers," Ana says. "Wasn't that nice, Christian?"

"Nice," I mumble. "Let me put them in water for you." I grab them, take them to the bathroom and toss them into the toilet.

I see flashes when I come out. Now, he's photographing Ana with my family.

"You should be in one, Jose," Elliot says. "Christian, take a picture of all of us." I flip him off.

"What did I say about the photos?"

"Don't worry, Christian," Jose says, all familiar like. Who told him he could use my first name, anyway? "You don't have to pay me to do this. My gift." Why does he keep saying this? Like my top concern in his photographing my family and subsequently my wife's vagina with my son popping out, is that I'd have to pay him?

"I don't want any photos, regardless of dollars!"

"Christian, you should get in a shot," my mother says.

"We shouldn't make Ana pose too much," Jose says, obviously not wanting me included in the album. Oh, this guy is toast.

"Jose, I need a word with you out in the hall."

"Christian!" Ana gives me a stern look, like she thinks I'm going to beat the shit out of him or something. Under normal circumstances, maybe. But, I need him to move some beds. Besides, I'll let the dream team of Cristo and Marco do all the shit beating for me.

"I just want to talk to my friend here."

"Christian-"

I pull him out in the hallway fast. This is the only moment I'm glad Ana's legs aren't working.

"I need you to help me."

"What?"

"It's for Ana. It's a surprise. You're the only one who can do this."

That wets his whistle.

#######

"You want me to do what?" Jose asks, standing in the new room at the foot of the old bed that needs to be yesterday's news, like last week.

"We need you to move this bed out of the room, down the hall to your left, and onto the loading dock. There are two men there with another bed. We want you to switch it out and bring the new bed back."

"Okay, why again?"

"I told you, it's a surprise for Ana."

"She wants a new bed?"

"Yes! Will you do this?"

"I'd do anything for Ana." He looks off, longingly. Fucker. If I didn't want the bed so much, I'd hope he'd get caught. "Are you two going to help me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Taylor and I look to each other. Fuck. Why not?

"I had a head injury today," I say, pointing to my goose egg. "And Taylor's recovering from going to jail last night."

"What?"

"It's on rollers! It shouldn't be that hard!"

He takes hold of the end and pulls it out. It's a lot bigger and more cumbersome than originally thought.

"I don't think I can get it out the door."

"Flip it on its side."

"It's so heavy!" He grunts and growls, sweat dripping all over.

"Don't give up now! You've come so far!"

With effort, the bed slams onto its side and he begins to push it out the door.

"Wait!" I look out into the hallway to make sure the coast is clear. It is. "Don't let anyone see you," I warn.

"How do I avoid that?"

"Just act casual and move fast."

Once out the door, he strains to flip the bed back right again, and moves it down the hall until I can't see him anymore.. If I didn't hate the fucker, I'd be proud of his work ethic. I turn to Taylor.

"So far, so good."

"Let's hope he doesn't get caught."

My phone rings. It's my mother.

"What is it Mom? Is something wrong with Ana?" My breathing halts as my heart pounds.

"Dr. Greene is here," she says, with an edge of concern in her voice. "She wants to talk to you both."

"I'm running there now." I hang up.

Oh god, something's wrong with my Ana.

 **To Be Continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

I watch the ticking hands of a clock that's hung crooked on a wall with a long crack leading to nowhere in particular. In fact, the crack just ends midway down the old paint. I'm not sure if the wall gave up on the crack or the crack gave up on the wall, but whatever the case, the clock keeps on ticking. I've never liked clocks. They promise you something that they just end up taking away in the end.

"I'm concerned..."

Dr. Greene is speaking and I'm not there. I am, physically. I'm sitting next to Ana's bed, holding her hand and stroking her fingers, moving her wedding rings with my thumb. My ears are there. My eyes are there. My ass is falling asleep in this hard chair, so I know it's there. But, I'm frozen. All I can comprehend is that Ana might not be okay. That the baby might not be okay. My greatest fear is that my dream is coming true and it's enough to paralyze me.

"Ana hasn't made significant progress,..." Dr. Greene says, her voice echoing as she talks to us from her place of power, standing at the bed's foot. "She could be at risk..." I gasp, trying to find air around me. But, I can't breathe if Ana isn't okay. I don't want to.

The clock continues to taunt me with its ticking hands. Time is marching on without me being able to stop it, or turn it back, or give me more.

"What does all this mean?" The words trip out of my throat.

"She's not dilating enough. The medications I've given her aren't working like I had hoped."

"Why the fuck not?" I ask, louder than intended.

"Christian!" Ana says, eyes pleading with me to shut the hell up.

"It's hard to say. The epidural could have something to do with it."

"I knew it! That fucking psychopath harmed her!"

"No, Mr. Grey. Epidurals have that effect sometimes."

"Then, why did we fucking do it?"

"If I recall, you told my nurses and me to, and I quote, 'Get the god damn epidural, you incompetent bastards and stop standing around scratching your asses, watching my wife suffer the way you're going to suffer if you don't get the god damn epidural.' She remembers a lot. No wonder she made it through medical school with top honors.

"Well, that was before I saw the fucking thing!" I have a flash of recall, like post traumatic stress, of that implement of cruel and unusual torture heading toward the marker drawn bullseye on Ana's back.

"Christian, sit down and breathe before you hyperventilate and pass out again," Ana says. "I can see your goose egg pulsating." I hadn't even realized I was standing. I touch my forehead. My goose egg does feel tender. I sit, for Ana, and for my throbbing egg.

"How is the baby?" Ana asks, as we both place a hand on her belly. "Is he okay?"

"The baby is stable. My real concern is your vitals, Ana. Mainly, your blood pressure. It's still too high."

"This is ridiculous," I say. "Let's do the fucking c-section!"

"No," Ana says. I want to have him naturally."

"Natural is overrated!"

"How do you figure?"

"Think of recycled toilet paper."

"What?" She shakes her head and her bangs swing like they do when she's exasperated with the track my thought train is traveling on.

"It's natural and it does the job, but who the hell wants to wipe their ass with it when they can have two-ply with quilting?"

"I thought you were an environmentalist." Oh, she's going to throw that at me!

"Not when it comes to toilet paper or childbirth!"

"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume the goose egg is talking."

Dr. Greene clears her throat to silence us.

"Tell you what," Dr. Greene says, like she's the voice of reason, when nothing she's said or done has been reasonable this whole fucking morning! "I'll up the pitocin, adjust the other meds and we'll see where we are in an hour."

"No, we're doing the c-section now!" I say, standing up again.

"We are not," Ana says, pulling me back down.

"Are!"

"Not!"

"Ana, you are in danger! I'm not going to sit around and put you and the baby at further risk because you have some ridiculous goal of pushing him out of your vagina."

"It's not ridiculous! We planned for this! We took classes!"

"I was fingering you in Lamaze class! We didn't even pay attention. We probably won't even know what to do, anyway."

They both stare at me like my goose egg has grown eyes, a nose and a dirty mouth. Probably too much information for Dr. Greene. But, fuck it! She's heard it all before. Most of it, anyway.

"Mr. Grey," she clears her throat again. I wish I had a cough drop to launch at her haughty phlegm. But, then that would be another thing in her life that I'm footing the bill for. "I think you're overacting. It's not that dire now."

"Well, what do you propose we do, lounge around in our bunny slippers and give each other fingernail jobs until it gets to a level of dire that satisfies you?" Honestly, why are these women so hell bent on waiting? What does it matter which way he comes out, as long as they both come out alive?

"Mr. Grey, you need to relax..." She heads for the door with her paperwork. "I'll have the nurse adjust your meds and get back to you."

"I don't need my meds adjusted! I'm not taking any!" I throw my hands up in the air, because I'm exasperated and I don't know what else to do with them.

"I was talking to Ana. But, perhaps you should think about obtaining some prescriptions of your own." Why does everyone keep saying that?

She walks out. Probably to head back to her hot tub and her water pruned, wine soaked husband. Heaven forbid she works more than ten minutes at a time.

"Thank you for exposing our sex life to the medical community!"

"She knows we have sex. She's financially involved with the outcome." I stroke her belly.

"Not at Lamaze class! What if she tells the teacher?"

"Mom Jeans? Believe me, she'll be jealous! No one's fingered that since the Carter administration."

"You are unbelievable!"

"Ana-" she puts a finger to my mouth to hush me.

"Don't. I know what you're going to say."

"I don't think so."

"Trust me."

"Oh, you think you know me so well, Mrs. Grey. What am I going to say?"

"That I never do as I'm told, I have no regard for my own safety, and you have half a mind to take me over your knee and it won't be for either of our sexual pleasure."

"No, you're wrong." She raises a brow in doubt of my honesty. "I have a _full_ mind to take you over my knee!" I look into her blue eyes. I never want to look into any other eyes again. "I need you to be safe." It's an order and a plea.

"I promise you, I won't put myself or the baby in danger. Let's just see if we can do this."

"I'm warning you, Mrs. Grey," I lift her hand that I'm holding and kiss her knuckles. "The spanking is still on the table."

"You'll have to wait six weeks."

"Don't remind me." I lean in to kiss her.

"Wait, I have to know. What's a fingernail job?" She scrunches her nose.

"Painting each other's nails."

"As in both of ours?"

"It came off the top of my head. I didn't think it out."

"I thought it would be something more exciting."

"Don't tempt me, Mrs. Grey." I kiss her again. This time deeper and with a little tongue.

"You already got her pregnant. You should wait until the bun is out of the oven to bake a new one." I know that voice. Grandpa Theo.

"Oh, fuck," I murmur against her lips. Ana giggles.

We break the kiss and I turn to see Grandpa and Grandma Trevelyan and Mia in the doorway. Why does my family always walk in when I'm sexualizing my wife?

I stand up to greet them.

"I knew you two would do lots of lovemaking on that honeymoon!" My grandmother says, as I plant a kiss on her cheek. Kill me now.

"Only straight bullets from this boy," my grandfather says, excitedly. "A son on the first try!" He doesn't even know we're naming the baby after him, yet. He may parade down the hall naked if I tell him that, so I hold off.

"When do I get to see my nephew?!" Mia barrels toward me, monkey hugging me like I'm a banana tree.

"Hopefully before the year's end."

"You're so funny, Christian!" I wish I was.

"Mia, please!" I peel her arms off me. She's about to do the same to Ana, but I grab her by the waist and pull her back before she pounces. "Ana needs to be kept calm. I don't want you attacking her and aggravating anything."

"I'm sure a hug will be okay," Ana says, smiling sweetly.

I think about it and let my sister go. "Just a small one!" I point my finger and wag with warning.

She heads for Ana and hugs her.

"Smaller!"

There's a knock on the already open door. More visitors! I'm thinking of hanging a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the knob just to keep the relatives at bay.

"Grandpa's here." It's Ray. He gives me a quick hug with a double pat on he back and then races to Ana.

"Daddy!" Ana squeals. She really is a daddy's girl. I briefly wonder if I ever had a little girl would she feel that way about me. But, what kind of father could I be to a daughter? I don't even know what kind of father I'll be to my son. But, I dare now to hope a good one.

"I'm glad I got here in time!" Ray says. "I had to fight my way through a hell of a crowd outside."

"Oh no, is it paparazzi?" I ask, remembering how they stalked us during our wedding and when they caught wind that Ana had a bump.

"No, they caught some idiot who was trying to steal a hospital bed."

My eyes nearly shoot out of my head. Jose! Fuck!

"Ray, would you watch Ana for a minute? I need to do something."

"Of course."

"Where are you going, Christian?" Ana asks. I know she knows I'm up to something, because she knows me so well.

"Taylor needs to talk to me."

"I didn't hear him call." She squints, trying to squeeze the truth out of me.

"He doesn't even have to anymore. I sense it."

I race out the door, before she can stop me, and pull my phone from my pocket to dial.

"Taylor!"

"Sir, I wanted to give you time with Mrs. Grey. Mr. Rodriguez has been detained. There's a crowd gathered on the loading dock. He refuses to leave your wife's bed."

"Of course he does." The fucker. "I'm on my way!"

########

"What the fuck is happening here?" I mutter to myself as I look out on the insanity.

Ray wasn't kidding. A swarm of people have gathered outside on the loading dock. So many women in crafty cardigan sweaters and practical hairstyles, I can almost feel their spirit animal, Martha Stewart, leading them. Without getting too close to their diaper bag wielding appendages, I peek over ponytails and mid length bobs to see what's happening beyond the swell at the bottom of the dock. All I can make out is Cristo and Marco standing threateningly over Jose as he stands protectively by my bed. Ana's bed!

"Let him go, you monsters!" a rather aggressive woman in pajama bottoms she's trying to pull off as pants yells as she throws something at Marco's ass. I think it's chocolate milk from her kid's sippy cup, because there's now a huge brown streak on his seat. Unless the falafel he ate on his break with the big titty whore really didn't agree with him and suddenly told him so in writing.

"Back off, ladies!" Cristo yells out. "I got mace!" Oh my god, he's going to mace all these women with children! He is a lunatic! All of this over my fucking comfort number queen! Now, I see how neighboring countries ignite in war so easily!

"Where did all these sweater clad women come from?" I ask Taylor.

"They're from a Mommy and Me playgroup that meets here on Thursday mornings."

"What the hell?" God, I hope Ana doesn't want to join up with this flock. It's like Lamaze- the sequel, except the babies are out and so are the husbands. And I don't want anyone convincing her to wear a sweater with cats involved in yarn play knitted on the front.

"They stopped class to support Mr. Rodriguez."

"Support him in what? Not getting killed?"

A woman next to me leans over. "Better care for mothers!"

"Whose mothers?"

"All of our mothers," she says with an air of patriotism as she lifts her fist skyward to signify victory. Over what, I'm not sure. From the smell imitating from the kid on her hip, it's definitely not her son's potty training.

"How is he caring for my mother?"

"You know they've updated every floor of this hospital, except for labor and delivery!" Another woman pipes up, outraged." They leave the moms with torn up old rooms, hard beds and over crowding." I did notice all that, but what the fuck does this have to do with the photographer?

"That man speaks for all of us! " The first woman says, pointing to the dock where Jose is now clinging to the bed frame, while they forcefully try to extract him. It's like watching a live battle against Goliath, except it's worse, because there's two! "He's trying to get his wife a new bed and those barbarians won't let him give it to her."

His wife?! Like a bull, I see red. "Did he say that?"

She nods. "Her name is Anastasia!"

"That mother fucker!"

I don't care about the swinging hands or arms or threat of mace, I charge forward through the crowd. No one is going to mistake Ana for the photgropher's wife!

"Sir!" Taylor rushes after me. "There's paparazzi here. This isn't a good idea!"

"Fuck the paparazzi!"

Flashbulbs go off in my face.

"Hey, aren't you Christian Grey?" the photog shouts.

I push the slug away so hard, he topples to the ground, his flashes continuing to fire even as he pounds the pavement.

The crowd starts chanting _'free_ _the bed'._ Oh my god. I'm smack dab in the middle of a movement.

There he is! The fucking photographer! Glorying in the cheers and applause as he clings to Ana's bed frame with one hand and salutes the crowd with the other like he's Che Guevara or something. How the fuck did this happen? I thought he could possibly get arrested or maimed by the thugs, I didn't expect a revolution in his honor by morning meeting moms!

Cristo grabs Jose by his saluting arm and cuffs it. The crowd goes wild in protest, hissing and booing, as Marco tries to take the bed away. A full juice box is thrown, exploding onto the comforter. Fuck, my down comforter!

"Let go of that bed!" I shout, as I rush toward them, pushing to keep the bed in place and trying to wipe the juice off the duvet with my sleeve. The crowd cheers me on and they start that damn bed freeing chant again.

"You!" Cristo says, glaring at me. "I knew you were behind this!"

"Of course I am! This is my bed and Ana isn't his wife, she's mine!" I glare at Jose, who cowers like a poodle who just pissed on a pit bull's favorite tree.

A collective gasp is heard throughout the crowd. It's like their favorite soap opera took a dramatic turn they didn't expect. All eyes are glued on me.

"Why did you tell everyone Ana was your wife?" I mutter under my breath to Jose.

"I had to come up with a story."

"And that was the first fairytale you thought of?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt your sweet nothings," Cristo growls, and there's nothing sweet about it. "But, maybe you two can continue your poetry reading in Marco's office." He snaps his fingers to Marco. Marco flashes his lone gold tooth. I'm sure the one he uses for questioning.

"Where's his office?" I ask. Why did I ask? Maybe so the crowd will take note and the real authorities will have a lead as to where my corpse is, so Ana will have at least pieces of me to bury.

"An undisclosed location." Gulp. He's onto me. No chance of my remains being found. "Get the bed out of here!"

"No!" I rush forward, throwing myself between Marco's chest area and the mattress. "I'm fucking sick of everyone trying to stop me from giving my wife a decent sleeping arrangement!"

"Tell him brother!" I think that was the juice box thrower. She seems to be the ringleader.

"I'm warning you, Grey!" Cristo snarls at me, fingering his handcuffs. For a split second he reminds me of Elena. I shake my head to rid myself of the thought.

"Take me, instead," Taylor says, throwing himself between me and the barbarians so dramatically, you'd think he was channelling Charlton Heston in a biblical epic. Of course he wants to play the hero role for Ana! Not twice in one night, buddy!

"No, Taylor. I got this." I say, pushing him back.

"I'll go for Ana," Jose says, jumping up like the flying cockroach he is.

"She's my wife! If anyone's going to jail over her bed, it's going to be me!" Honestly! Since when did we become three men and a bed for birthing the baby?

"Don't fight, boys. We'll take you all in. Marco likes choices." There's that tooth flashing again. Oh my god. Hopefully he'll take little Jose as the appetizer, first.

"Wait!" They halt at my command. "What is my crime? That I want my wife, the love of my life and mother to my son, to have a decent bed while she labors? To have pillows to prop her head? To have sheets that won't leave skid marks on her alabaster skin? Is it a crime to want her to have the very best?"

"Yes!"

"How?"

"Rules are rules and you broke them," Cristo growls. "Every bed in this place has to be regulation."

"What does that mean?" I sense a loophole.

"The same."

"What is this, communism?"

"There's no religion involved, it's policy." Religion? Maybe he thinks communism is the same as communion.. Fuck it. I don't have time to play Sunday school teacher to his thoughts.

"So, if every bed and and every room on this floor was the same, it would be okay?" I ask, widening the loophole.

"Yes." He grins like he's got me cornered on the chess board with a confident 'check'. If he knew how to play chess, which I highly doubt. I see him more as a tic tac toe man or maybe Yahtzee.

"Good." I got him. "I'm going to redo this entire floor!" Check mate, fucker! The billionaire always wins.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not talking, I'm doing!"

The crowd cheers.

"I am going to make sure every room and every mother has a comfort queen."

The juice box thrower is now audibly sobbing and has launched a cigarette lighter app on her iPhone, waving the screen back and forth.

"All the beds will be the same!"

The crowd erupts.

"You don't have the power to do that!"

I glare at him.

"You don't know who the fuck I am!"

#######

Like pilgrims who thirst and suffer to reach far off promised lands. Or, war ravaged nations who finally find hard fought freedom after decades of tyrannical oppression. Or, an underdog who wins the game with a Hail Mary pass in the last seconds of play... I finally have my room.

"Keep them closed!" I whisper in Ana's ear as I cover her greedy little eyes with one hand and push her in a wheelchair with the other toward a door that is now ours.

"But, I can't see where I'm going." I can feel her lashes batting, trying to get a peek between any part in my fingers, but I keep them knit tight. I know her trickery.

"You're not supposed to, hence it being a surprise." I can't resist a little nibble of her lobe. She scrunches her neck up and giggles as my teeth and breath tickle her and I can feel her smiling against my cheek. I'm such a lovesick fool for her smiles. She has me wrapped, roped, and tied up in knots around her little finger and every other part of her for that matter. Which reminds me, no wrapping, roping, or tying up in knots for six long weeks. I have to bite my own lip on that thought.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Grey." I remove my hand and she opens her eyes as we pass through an archway of intermingled apricot, cream and winter white roses and enter a wonderland of more flowers, twinkle lights, and a goose down duvet made for a queen, both figuratively and literally.

Her blue eyes open wide as I watch her take in her surroundings like a child who's just discovered her first Christmas morning.

"Christian!" she squeals. "This is unreal! Are you sure we're still in the hospital?"

"So, you don't like it? I tease.

"I don't," she says so seriously, for a split second I fear the worst. But, then she smiles. "I love it!"

"Because, I could always take you back-" I turn the wheelchair around and move for the door.

"No!" She pounds her palms down on the armrests in playful protest and giggles, and I turn her back around. "You are amazing, Christian! How did you do all this?"

"I don't even know." I'm so exhausted, I feel like we had the baby already and it was only a bed.

I stop the wheelchair by that very bed and kneel down beside her, taking her hand in mine.

"Hearts and flowers for you, always..." I kiss her fingers.

"It's so much more." She strokes my now two day stubbled cheek with her fingertips and leaning over, kisses me softly. My heart swells like a dam that's damn near burst.

"It feels like we're at the prom!"

"Who'd you go to prom with?" I ask, suddenly filled with hatred for the fucker.

"A guy from band."

" _A_ band or _the_ band?" Torturous thoughts of a long haired derelict serenading her with his poor man's rendition of Nirvana's greatest hits while he stares at her tits plague me.

" _The_ band. As in, marching. He played flute."

"Good. Did zit face kiss you?"

"How do you know he had acne?"

"He was in _the_ band." She laughs.

"No, he didn't."

"Didn't kiss you or didn't have acne?"

"Didn't kiss me."

"See, I knew he was a zit face." I lean in and do what pizza cheeks wasn't man enough to.

I look to the bed. I can't believe it's really here. The long fought battle won. Orchids frame the headboard, which hide the scratch marks Jose left when they tried to forcefully extract him from it. I'm glad Taylor was able to get the juice box stain off the comforter with his Tide pen and baby wipes. Grape juice is a bitch. I make a mental note of that for the terrible twos. Leave it to Armando Bastille to find gray rose petals to spells out 'Mrs. Grey' on the duvet.

"There's a pond in here!" She seems surprised.

"Actually, that's a Japanese foot soak with heated stepping stones. A Shiatsu pedicurist will be on call any time you want your feet done.

"Does she do fingernail jobs, too?" She laughs.

"You're a regular comedian, Mrs. Grey." I grin.

"And the rose wall mural!" She takes a second look at the artwork made out of the blooms. "Is that a baby being born on the sun?" Damn it! He kept some of those hellfire orange roses in!

"I told that fucker to cool it on the interpretive art."

"No, I like it. It gives me something to think about." She smiles. "Plus, I heard orange roses are big in Paris, now." I have to roll my eyes.

"Did you bring the bassinet from the nursery at home?" She looks confused by its presence.

"No, it's an exact duplicate. I wanted his transition from here to home to be smooth and seamless."

"I don't get it."

"I don't want him sleeping around in different beds. It might give him anxiety. Like he won't know where his next night's rest will come from. I want consistency for him. Always."

"You're a good dad already." She smiles. I don't know if it's true, but it makes me smile, too. "But, they may have him sleep in the nursery."

"Over my dead body will my son be surrounded with all those crying, germ ridden babies from families I haven't run background checks on. Besides, this hospital will do whatever I want now."

"Really, why?"

"Let's just say I made a sizable donation." Like the whole floor.

"Christian, I love all of this and I love you." She kisses me and it deepens. After a few glorious moments, I pull back.

"I want to get you out of your clothes."

"Christian! I can't feel anything from the waist down."

"Not for that! I have a nightgown for you and his and hers matching bathrobes." I jump to my feet and pull them out from the closet to show her. "I had them embroidered with with 'Papa Grey', 'Mama Grey'..." I pull out a tiny one made for our mini-me. "And Baby Grey." I show her the hood. "It's even got a little duck head on it to keep his hair area warm after we wash it.

"That is the cutest thing I've ever seen!"

I help her out of that dreadful hospital number and slip the new nightgown over her head. I may have accidentally, or not so accidentally, copped a feel as I pulled it down.

"Satin?" she asks, feeling the new fabric brushing her skin. I toss the old garment in the trash. It's so cheap and flimsy, I don't think McDonald's would use it to wrap their burgers. "This is so beautiful! But, you know it will be destroyed in childbirth."

"I don't care. I want you to have the best. Besides, I have three others exactly like it waiting in the wings as replacements." I help her into her bathrobe.

"You really did think of everything."

"You ain't seen nothing yet." I wink.

I pick her up from the wheelchair and pull a remote out from my pocket and hit play. 'Witchcraft' by Sinatra sounds from surround sound speakers and the lyrics flash along with pictures of our life together across the 60" flatscreen.

"Oh my word!"

"Remember dancing to this with me?"

"I had never danced like that before."

"Not even with zit-faced, flute boy?"

"No one, but you." She smiles and snuggles into me, kissing my neck and stroking my chest. How did I ever resist her touch?

"Me, neither." I kiss her hair. "I still remember how you looked that night, Mrs. Grey." I point to the screen at our wedding picture. It's my favorite one. I'm whispering in her ear as we dance our first dance as man and wife and Ana's laughing against my shoulder. I wish I could remember what I said, so I could make her laugh that way again. "I'd never seen anything like you."

"That seems like a lifetime ago," she says, wistfully, as I lay her down onto the 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and cover her with the duvet. Those scratchy, starched hospital linens be damned! "We were so young then."

"It was just a little over nine months ago. You're still only 22." She laughs as I tuck her in. "Although, you are my old lady now."

"Yours."

"Mine."

I sit in a custom built recliner, positioned right by her bed. With a flick of a switch the chair rises to bed height at just the right position so she can squeeze my hand.

"Now that's impressive!" she says.

"You should see the massage option on this thing."

"Really?" She raises a brow. "You're going to sit in a massage chair while I push out our son?"

"Don't worry, your bed has one, too." I get up and turn the dial to the double headed option. "Couples massage."

I kick off my shoes and I'm about to climb in when she holds out a hand to stop me.

"Put on your robe!"

"Right now?"

"Yes, for our couples massage. I want to see how cute you look in it."

I take off my shirt and slide on my robe. She starts laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?"

"You look like you should be smoking a cigar."

"Appropriate, since I'll be passing them out, soon."

"I think you need a duck hood, too." Her laughter is contagious.

"You just want to call me a duck head."

"No, I want you to keep your hair area warm." She laughs.

"Make room, Mama Grey, Papa Grey's climbing in." I tuck in close beside her and cover us with the puffy comforter. It really is puffy! I feel like we're being swallowed up in a marshmallow dream. "Look at all this room we have now!" I wiggle my feet; my toes luxuriating in all the space they have to spread.

"This is nice."

I hold her close and rub her belly, then lean over to kiss it.

"You should come out and see us soon," I whisper to the baby as Ana giggles. "Join the party. Enjoy the massage bed." It vibrates beneath us and I sit up, leaning into Ana's ear. "You know we could have fun with one of these at home."

Ana doesn't laugh this time. She tenses.

"Ana?"

She then lunges forward, holding the right side of her belly. Something is wrong.

"What is it, Ana?" I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.

"It hurts so bad!" She screams out.

I press the button to alert the nurses. I don't know what to do. I'm panicking.

"Get the doctor!" Ana hollers.

"I don't want to leave you."

"Please, Christian!" I watch as the nurses rush in and hover over her. I don't know what they're doing or what's wrong. I feel helpless.

"Okay, Ana!"

I race down the hall to find Dr. Greene, who I see coming my way.

"I just got the call, what happened?" she asks, hurriedly, on approach.

"I don't know. She was fine. She had pain. I thought she wasn't supposed to feel pain!"

"I need to check her out."

She rushes into the room and I follow closely behind.

"When did a floral shop open up in here?" Dr. Greene comments sarcastically as she passes through the arch of roses and races to Ana.

"Okay, Ana. Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm in pain." She scrunches her face so tight, I feel it stabbing my heart.

"She's in pain, god damn it! Do something!"

"Where does it hurt?" Dr. Greene asks. Ana points to the right side of her belly.

"What's wrong with her?" I ask.

She turns to one of the nurses. "I need to get her upstairs."

"What do you mean upstairs?" I ask. Again, no answer.

Some nurses move to lift her onto the gurney that I wasn't aware was rolled in.

"No, I'll do that!" I move in to lift her, but they back me off.

"Mr. Grey, please don't interfere! We need to run some tests!"

She's on the gurney before I can do anything else. My Ana!

"Christian!" Ana cries out.

"I'm here, baby." I rush to her and take her hand and cover her face with kisses.

"I love you so much!" she weeps.

"You don't even know how much I love you." I press my forehead to hers.

They pull her away from me, wheeling her out the door so fast. I try to keep up, but I'm pushed to the side.

"Mr. Grey, wait here!" Dr. Greene says. "We'll call you."

"No, I'm not leaving Ana!" And I won't let her leave me!

But, I have no choice. They keep moving away from me down the long hallway that ends in double doors, just like my dream, and in a blink they disappear behind them.

Everything is quiet. She's gone. And I'm left to wait and watch the ticking clock.

 ** _Next Chapter- Here Comes Teddy!_**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Baby Teddy is finally here! I will update this story again with meeting the family and baby/daddy firsts, but next I will return to my other story. Look for an update on that soon. Thanks for all your follows and reviews in both! It means everything to hear that you are enjoying my Christian. xo**_

"Where the hell is my wife?" I pound my fist down on the reception desk so hard a set up of pamphlets advertising a new drug for erectile dysfunction falls to the floor. Why are they advertising that shit in labor and delivery anyway? Everyone in here is obviously in working order.

"She's with Dr. Greene having tests done," says a middle aged nurse who, despite her sweet southern drawl, is the wicked witch of the northwest.

"Still?!"

"It's only been five minutes." She taps her watch, like I'm a pre-schooler who can't tell the short hand from the long hand. "For the third time Mr. Grey, we'll let you know when she's done." She collects the fallen pamphlets and props them back up so they're, fittingly, erect again.

"When will that be?"

Ignoring me, she walks off. Southern hospitality my ass. What I could really use about now is some Southern Comfort. No, I need my wits about me. I may be called to fly into action at any time. And I don't want my son's first memory of his father as a drunk.

I stare at the double doors. The ones that took her from me when she was screaming out in pain. They've opened and closed countless times since, with emergencies of varying degrees, fraternizing medical personnel and even a father to be who shit himself in the room, but no Ana. I'd rather have my limbs ripped apart by wild dogs, than live with this waiting and not knowing.

 _I look for mommy down the long, cold, white hallway they took me to. Away from her. I look and I look and I look, but I don't ever see her again..._

I shake my head to rid myself of these thoughts. I have to get away from these white hallways. They're fucking with me. I just need somewhere to sit for a minute and catch my breath. Not with the family. Right now, I need to be alone.

I start walking, but the walls follow me. The hallway never ends, until it does, and instead of any good place to rest, all I'm left with is more white walls. So, I lean against one, throw my head back and close my eyes.

"You going in?" I'm startled awake by an old man wearing jogging pants that were purchased two sizes ago and a ball cap that's neglected to declare a team.

"Going in where?" Who is this old man and why is he trying to fuck with me? Why am I sitting on the floor? Did I fall asleep? Oh shit, I scramble to my feet and pull out my phone. I'm both relieved and anguished that they haven't called, but I've only been out five minutes.

"Well?" He motions to the door behind me. I turn to look at the sign that informs me it's the multi faith prayer room and that I should keep my voice down. Please.

"Oh no, I don't go into places like that," I say, turning away from the door.

"Hospital chapels?"

"Chapels in general."

"Me, neither," he smiles. "Could you step to the side, you're blocking the door."

I move to my left and he enters. What an odd little man. I think he's wearing bedroom slippers with dress socks. Who am I to judge, I've been traipsing around in boxer shorts, trying to get a bed delivered half the night.

Through the parted door, I peek inside. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to sit in there for a minute. It's peaceful and quiet and dark. I need the darkness right now to drive out all of this white.

I walk inside and immediately feel like I've made a mistake. Why I'm in here, I don't know. To rest. To wait. To pray? No. The last time I did that was on my knees at age four and she didn't wake up. I don't want to take that chance again. My greatest fear is that God gave Ana to me, just so he could take her away again.

I choose the last pew, shuffling through skinny aisles built for frail old ladies and lost causes clinging to the promise of miracles as thin as the clouds they were born in, and tuck myself into the deepest corner, farthest from God.

I'm exhausted. I hadn't realized how much until I sat down. I feel like I've been tied to a rack and beaten all day, but unlike high school, I feel no relief in my suffering and my happy ending is eluding me. I prop my elbows and cradle my forehead in my hands. Oh Ana, please be okay.

"I thought you didn't go into places like this." The old man says from three pews up and across the aisle. Nosey bastard.

"I don't, but I just needed to sit..." I lift my head, not sure why I'm explaining myself to him, and point to the empty seats around us. "Lucky for me I didn't need a reservation."

"You in here to fix your head?" he asks.

"No, I told you, I'm only in here to sit!" The nerve of this fucker.

"You should get it checked."

"Excuse me?"

"You may have a concussion." Oh, the lump on my brow.

"No, my wife is having a baby," I say, as way of explanation. I look at my phone again. Nothing. Damn it.

"Hot damn!" He claps his hands so hard, for a half second I think he's fired a shot at me. Then he stands up and walks over. Oh fuck. Just what I need, an old person who wants to talk.

"You shouldn't be in here talking to an old man..." he says, waddling over and squeezing a belly that rivals Ana's into the pew in front on me.

"You're right, I shouldn't." So, go.

"You should be with your wife." He plops down and props an elbow on the back of the wood, like we're girlfriends chatting on a lazy Saturday about life. "It's not every day you become a father."

I shift in my seat. "She's having some tests." I try to play it off, but my thespianic prowess is lacking today. "I have to wait..."

"Me, too. I wait here a lot."

"Oh yeah?" Next thing I know he'll be balls deep into a story about passing stones.

"My wife is dying," he says, matter of factly. I freeze. All I can think of is Ana, in pain, on some cold hard table where I can't be with her. A chill runs up my spine.

"I'm sorry."

"Fifty-one years with the most beautiful girl that ever walked the earth. Nothing sorry about that." He smiles. "First time I met her, I knew there was someone upstairs who must think I'm better than a lump of shit to give me the likes of her." I can almost see that first time played out in his eyes. Or maybe I just know, because it happened to me, too.

"So, you come here to pray?" I ask.

"I'm not really a praying man."

"Me, neither."

"Yet, here we both are." He smiles. "I think people do a lot of praying, but they mostly ask for the wrong things." He leans in. "The real good stuff is what you never think to ask for, anyway."

"That's true." I never asked for Ana. I never asked for our baby. Now, they're all I want.

He looks up at the ceiling and points to a small, circular stained glass window. Something with clouds and rolling hills. I guess everyone believes in those. Though, I'm not sure why people always look into the clouds for answers. They may look light and fluffy, but they always bring rain.

"There's a bird that lives up there," he says, pointing. "I watch her, day in and day out."

"Where?"

"Outside. You can see the shadow of the nest through the glass." I squint my eyes and faintly make it out. "When we had that big rainstorm last week, I thought for sure she was a goner. But, next day, sun was shining and she was back, singing like she never saw a drop. I thought, that bird's been through a lot of shit and now look at her. Singing."

"Yeah, but who's to say it won't rain again?" I ask. My eyes fixed on the stained glass clouds. "Or a cat will get her? Or the nest will be blown away by the same wind that gave her the scattered pieces to build it with, taking everything and leaving her all alone?"

He gives me a sideways look. "Are we still talking about the bird?"

"Yes." I shift, and pull my eyes away from the window.

"Are you scared?" he asks.

"No. She'll be fine." I say, thinking of Ana, not the bird.

"No, I mean... You're going to be a dad. There's nothing scarier than that!"

"Well, I guess I'm as nervous as any expectant father is." I toss out the company line.

"I was terrified!" He sits back, crossing his legs, tucking into his story. "My kid wasn't planned" He leans over like he's telling me a secret. "Back in my day the birth control methods weren't as effective as they are now." The irony is not lost on me. But, then it makes me remember how badly I acted when Ana told me.

"Why didn't you want the baby?" I ask, suddenly feeling like we're in some support group.

"I thought I'd be a shitty dad." He shrugs.

"Why?" Although annoying, he seems nice enough. Like the kind of guy that bounces grandkids on his knee and voluntarily plays Santa Claus at Christmas.

"Because I had a shitty dad and a shitty mom and I thought I didn't have a choice but to carry on the shit legacy."

"You mean the apple doesn't fall far..." My chest tightens. I don't want my son anywhere near the tree I fell from.

"But, I realized something." He looks straight at me. "The really shitty parents, don't worry they're going to be shitty, that's just who they are. It's the ones who worry about it that really care."

"Yeah, maybe you're right." Maybe he is right. I'd never thought about it like that. If worry is criteria for being a good dad, I'll be father of the century.

"When you hold your baby for the first time," emotion catches in his throat. "And you look at your wife..." He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand that still wears a wedding ring even though it's a size or more too tight. "You know, it goes by in a blink."

"What does?"

"Fifty-one years." He looks at me like he's looking at his younger self.

I nod and give him a heartfelt smile. He stands up.

"Aren't you going to sit some more?" I ask.

"I've had my time. It's you're turn now." He looks down at me, pointedly. "Your wife and son are going to be okay." He smiles and starts to walk away.

"Wait!" He stops and turns back to me "How did you know it's a boy?"

"Lucky guess." With a wink, he disappears through the door and back into the white hallways.

I haven't prayed, but oddly it feels like I've been to church. I'm all alone in the pew, well me and that bird who's started her singing. I don't bow my head or grovel on my knees like I did in that closet as a boy. But, because of Ana, my son, and that odd little man and his fifty-one years, I stand up, walk up the aisle, and sit a little bit closer to God.

My phone lights up and they call me to the waiting room.

#######

I stand and wait, leaning on a wall that's a shade of green that should only be seen briefly in an ill toilet bowl, right next to the door the nurse will come through to give me the news. What news, I have no idea. I'm terrified. My heart pounds, only contained by the cage of my ribs, as I listen for footsteps on the other side of the wood and watch the door knob, anticipating its turn.

"Christian," my mother says, as she comes up behind me and strokes my arm. "Why don't you sit down?"

"I can't sit, Mom. Not when I don't know..." I run both hands through hair that is now so unruly, it deserves a punishment spanking. Where the hell is Ana? Why won't they tell me anything? It's been forever! I've practically grown five years older in the last five minutes. By the time I hear anything I might be dead from old age.

Everyone is here, strewn about the room, sitting in deafening silence, save for a Muzak version a Rod Stewart song playing on garbled speakers. My whole family, Taylor and Gail, Ray, Kavanagh, even the photographer. I figured after the whole bed ordeal I should at least let him wait around for the news. But, if he so much as snaps one photo of my child coming into the world, I'm taking him out of it. They're all looking to me for some type of guidance, when all I can do is look at the knob on the door.

Mom moves in front of me and takes my face in her hands, looking me square in the eyes.

"I was just thinking about when you were nine."

"Mother, please." Why is she doing this right now? She has to turn everything into a Hallmark card.

"Do you remember in your math class when you were making up a pretend budget for the household you'd have when you grew up?"

"Vaguely..." What the fuck? Why is she bringing up grammar school math when I need to concentrate on my knob?

"I asked to see it and there were only two things written on the page- your name and your future salary."

"Bet I low balled it," I smart. Please get to the point!

"I asked you why you didn't do the assignment and list any other family members in your household. You looked at me like I grew a second head and said so matter of factly..." She tears up as she starts to imitate a younger me. "When I grow up I'm going to be alone."

She starts to cry and for once I am at a loss for a monogrammed handkerchief. I put an arm around her, holding her to me, letting her sob on my shoulder.

"I thank the heavens every morning for Ana," she says, and I nod, closing my eyes tight and pulling her closer.

Suddenly the waiting room doors open and that nurse is back. I shut my eyes for a second and the knob is turned on me!

"Mr. Grey?" she asks, tipping spectacles on the end of her nose in my direction. I can't read her eyes. She's giving nothing away, but the fact that she's generally sour and thinks coral frosted lipstick is her color.

"Yes." I let go of my mother and step forward. My heart now actively trying to escape through the hollow of my throat.

"Dr. Greene will speak to you shortly, but your wife is back in her room now-"

I don't need to hear anymore. I take off.

"Ana!" I call out, as I cross through the doorway and find my footing on the recently mopped hall floor. With strides worthy of Olympic gold, I run to her.

"Mr. Grey!" The nurse calls out after me, trying to cripple my pursuit, but it's impossible. Since the first day I saw Ana, nothing and no one can stop me from running to her. Not even me.

"Hey, watch it!" a janitor yells out as I kick his bucket and leave sloshy shoe prints in my wake.

"I have to get to my wife!" I move faster.

I barrel through a herd of nurses. One whistles at me and says something about bouncing coins off my derrière, but I don't give a fuck. It's Ana's ass, ladies. Find your own.

I curve around a man on a gurney with a broken arm, leg and everything else. I think his hand is facing in the wrong direction. Geez. Before I hurl, I run. Like the 'Man of Steel, or more apropos, the 'Man of the Woman Formerly Known as Miss Steele', I leap over boxes of medical supplies blocking my way in a single bound.

I see the door! I couldn't miss it. There are gray rose petals, a hybrid called 'The Grey Anastasia Rose' I had Armando create for her on our wedding day, scattered along the hallway, leading to the massive rose arch that frames the doorway leading to my Anastasia Rose.

"Ana!" I call out as I reach the entrance, nearly catching my ankle on a tangle of ivy and flickering lights, but saving myself just before I meet the koi in the serenity pond face to face.

She's tucked up in her bed as nurses fiddle with her IV and monitors and various medical instruments that I can't identify. This makes me nervous. It's all too busy and there's entirely too much fuss being made for things to be all right.

Christian!" Ana turns her face to mine as I stand in her doorway. I have to catch my breath. Not from the run, I've been running everyday of my life, both figuratively and literally. Seeing her just always does that to me.

"I was so worried about you," she says, holding out a hand that I immediately take as I sit in my power up, recline and rise swivel chair, beside her.

"Worried about me?" Is she serious? "I've made worrying about you two a sport." I kiss her hand.

"I'm sure you are MVP."

"To you, I hope..." I touch her belly. "And our little man." She giggles softly. "Oh Mrs. Grey, that is my favorite sound." I kiss her and all the stress and strain of the past hour melt away as her mouth meets mine.

One of the nurses clears her throat with far too much sass to be a respiratory issue. We break and I give her the eye I give Kavanagh on most occasions.

"You keep that to a minimum!" she says, wagging her finger on a hand wearing a wedding ring with diamond intentions, if the diamond intended to be absent from the situation. "You don't want to get things all worked up down there." I bet she says that to her husband every night. Lucky guy.

"Here you are, Ana," says the voice of a man that sounds like gravel that's been hot buttered. My head shoots up and around. What the fuck? It's a living Malibu Ken doll in some sort of medical costume and he's carrying a cup of ice to Ana's bed. I had a nightmare like this once!

"Thank you, Andy!" Ana smiles. Andy? They're on a first name basis? Ana takes the ice chips and puts one in her mouth. He's practically salivating as it crosses her lips. The fucker, whoever the fuck he is, is watching my wife eat ice! Only I can do that!

"What the hell is that?" I point to the cup of illicit frozen water, accusatorially staring at Andy, and throwing all the rage I'm feeling into the tap of my right foot.

"Ice chips," Ana says with a full frosty mouth that he's still watching. "It's all they'll let me have. I asked him to get me some when they were running the tests." He was with her when I wasn't?!

"I could've gotten it for you. I would've gotten you the best. Do you want Taylor to get some from the Fairmont?"

"No, Christian," Ana laughs, more peculiar, less ha-ha. "You don't have to send out for ice."

"It was no problem, it's my job to take care of Ana," says the fucker.

"The hell it is!" My fists clench at my sides in preparation for the wind-up.

"Christian!" Ana scolds. "He's my nurse."

"Nurse Andy." He holds out a hand that I don't shake. I just stare at it like he's trying to give me a load of shit, which seems fitting. He's smiling so cocky. He probably gets off on having other men's pregnant wives suck on his ice.

"Christian!" Ana scolds again. "Introduce yourself."

"I'm her husband." I glare at him. That's all the introduction he needs or gets.

"Oh god." Ana stops eating the ice and groans.

"What's wrong, baby?" I turn my attention fully back to her. She furrows her brow in just that way that makes me want to kiss it, so I do. She's so cold. Her skin beneath my lips doesn't feel her own. "She's freezing! Get rid of this fucking ice!"

Ana crushes the styrofoam cup and throws it down. Chips scatter. Well, that did it. I'm astonished. She finally did as she was told.

"I want to push!" she says through chattering teeth. "Let me push!"

"You can't right now!" I look to Andy. "Where the hell is Dr. Greene?"

"I don't know."

"That wasn't a question!"

"It wasn't?" Christ, he's an idiot!

"I want to push!" Ana says, yelling now.

"I'll go get Dr. Greene," Handy Andy says, exiting on the quick.

"Ana, no!" I wrap the comforter around her and turn on the heat option on the bed. So many choices in warming levels. Should I do Miami Beach or Hawaiian Nights? No, night doesn't sound warm enough! I go with Sahara Sun. It's got five red bars on the heat index and the wording is in sizzle script.

"Fucking God damned bitch slapping pussy eater!" Ana yells suddenly and sits up, like that child from the exorcist, except more enthused.

"Yes, I am all of those things, but you still can't push yet!" She grabs my hand and gives it an extra bone crunching squeeze. It's a pain that reminds me of my youth.

"Why the hell are there prehistoric size fish in here?" Dr. Greene asks, entering with Andy on her heel, eyeing the koi in my serenity pond. I could ask the same about her husband when he's soaking in their paid-for-by-the-Grey-family-dime hot tub. Only my fish don't require canine grooming and industrial strength cologne.

"Why the hell is Ana cursing like this?" I ask, as Ana continues to bear down and throw out the 'fucks'. Fuck. Is. Right. This one is so strong, it could be measured on the Richter scale.

"She's having a contraction," Dr. Greene says, dismissively, like she sees this kind of thing every day or something, while reading the paperwork she's holding.

"I'm well aware of that, but as you recall we had a little song and dance number with Dr. Psychopath and the crossbow he shot into her spine that was supposed to prevent her feeling anything at all!"

"Mr. Grey-"

"Why the hell did you have to fuck me so much?!" Ana screams so loudly, someone in the hall drops a tray. I can hear a metal plate cover bounce several times before it spins a few more, then stops with a clang clang clang.

"Ana, shhh. Breathe!" I inhale and exhale demonstratively, channeling Mom Jeans from Lamaze.

"It's you're fault I'm pregnant!" She's now squeezing my bicep with the hand not murdering mine like she's trying to strangle the life out of me through it.

"Does she need more ice?" Handy Andy asks.

"Yes, from Alaska," I say, gritting my teeth. "Go get it!" He exits.

"You're always like, Ana, I want you; Ana, I need you; Ana, my dick will feel so good inside of you! Well, you know what doesn't feel good?"

"This?" I cringe as she tightens her grip.

"And do you know what's not happening after today?"

I'm hopeful. "This?"

"Us, fucking!" Oh my god! My life just flashed before my eyes.

"Do something, Dr. Greene, she's lost her mind!"

"The epidural appears to have worn off on her right side," Dr. Greene says, matter of factly, like she's commenting on an uneven paint job or the monogram on her Fendi bag.

"You think?" Ana now pulls my hand to her face and bites down on the back like I'm a hunky breast piece of Grace's buttermilk fried chicken.

"It happens sometimes," Dr. Greene says, shrugging.

"So does loss of income from stopped checks!"

Finally, Ana relaxes, letting go of her belly and slowly removing her teeth from my knuckle region.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" she asks, holding to me like nothing that just transpired, transpired.

"Not at all, baby." I smile through clenched teeth and look to Dr. Greene. "Get her some pain relief! From a real doctor this time!"

"The pain is not my problem, Mr. Grey."

"Well, it sure as hell is ours!" With all this anger at me for knocking her up, next time she may bypass my bicep and go straight for my dick.

"I'm looking at the tests," Dr. Greene says, troubled, not taking her eyes off the page. "Despite the medications, she's not dilating and the contractions have slowed."

"Why isn't this progressing?" I ask, as Ana wraps herself around me.

"The baby's head could be too big to make it down the birth canal." Well, he is my son.

"And?" I ask, holding my breath. I can feel Ana tense, too.

"I don't think we should wait any longer. I want to do an emergency c-section now."

"Fucking finally!"

"No!" Ana says, terrified. "I want to push him out myself!"

"Ana, stop!" She starts to protest and I put my fingers to her lips. "Against my better judgement, I went along with your vaginal birth pipe dreams-"

"How would you know if my dreams are pipe or not? You don't even have a vagina!"

"That doesn't change the fact that our son is not coming out of yours!

"Mrs. Grey, even after the epidural, your blood pressure is alarmingly high," Dr. Greene says, on my side for once. She's either a good doctor or the comment about stopping the checks tugged a little too tight on the Fendi strings. "You're putting yourself risk. And the longer this labor goes on without progressing, it puts the child at risk."

'At risk' is all I need to hear.

"That's it! We're doing the c-section now!"

"Christian-"

"Ana, you made me make a promise to you earlier, if you recall, that I would chose the baby over you if something happened."

She's about to speak and I again place my fingers on her mouth to quiet her.

"I am not going to wait around for something to happen so I have to make that decision. Right now, I'm choosing both of you." I hold her chin and bring her eyes to mine. "C-section, Mrs. Grey." It's an order and a plea.

She looks up at me through fanned lashes. The mascara she was wearing earlier smudged across her lids from the hours. "Can I rest then?"

"Yes, baby!" I kiss her forehead. "You can rest for as long as you like." I tip her chin up with my fingers, bringing her eyes to mine. "Now, let's go meet our son." And I seal it with a kiss.

#######

Grace used to say the most important days of your life go by so fast that if you don't catch the moments like fireflies in a jar, you miss them. But, I don't think that's true. Any fireflies I ever trapped in a jar always escaped or suffocated or I had to let them go. I think the big stuff in life happens slowly, in a blurred fog. The kind where you can't see a hand in front of your face until it smacks you. And once it does, nothing is the same again.

We're flying down the hallway so fast, I can't catch my breath. I hold tight to Ana's hand as the team pushes her on the gurney through a set of doors, then another, then one more. We're whipping around a maze of corners so hard, it's like we're making a new version of 'Throw Mama from the Train'.

"Mr. Grey," Dr. Greene says, but I only hear it vaguely, like when you're under water or lost in a dream and someone tries to wake you. She has to repeat herself a few times, I think, before I look at her, still not comprehending what she wants from me. "You need to scrub up!"

"I don't want a bath. Not without Ana." I mumble. What is she saying? Why does she want to give me a bath? My brains feel scrambled, but not like eggs, more like egg substitute.

"You need to go and get into your scrubs!" she yells, slowly enunciating the words like I'm near deaf or don't speak good English, which in the moment is true for both.

"No, I'm not leaving her." Ana holds to my hand, tightly.

"Mr. Grey! You can't be with your her if you don't clean up and change!" She sounds like the voice in my head shortly after I met Ana. Or Flynn.

A nurse, who looks like an elementary school teacher I once had pulls me away. Ms. Prinnhall! We called her Ms. Prune Hole because she was an asshole who looked like she lived her life in bath water and only wore varying degrees of purple. As she ushers me along, I briefly wonder if it is her and she changed professions. But, then I realize it couldn't be. She'd be like 105 by now.

"I'll be right back, Ana!" Her name tumbles down the corridor. She gets smaller and smaller as she moves farther away from me. Like those people on the ground who become ants when you look down on them from a skyscraper.

"You need to hurry!" Nurse Prune Hole says. Yes, hurry! I need to get back to Ana! I need to have a baby!

The nurse leads me to a small room where I put on a smock like uniform- complete with hair net and mask- and scrub myself clean with a special soap that feels like it's taking off four layers of my skin. No, it's just burning where she bit me like chicken.

I examine my reflection in the mirror and hardly recognize the man in front of me. I'm a wreck. I'm tired, unshaven, I have a knot that's turning colors of a global variety on my forehead. Gone is the buttoned up CEO in complete control. Instead of a doll made of porcelain that's expensively dressed and sits on a shelf never to be touched, I'm now that old toy rabbit from that story, with fraying seams, a sewn on button eyeball, and who love has made real. I suddenly realize the next time I stare at my reflection, I'll be a father. Am I ready for this? Yes, I take a breath that's hard to catch, I'm ready for more.

"Mr. Grey, we have to go," the nurse warns, motioning with her liver spotted hand for me to follow and I do.

"Don't worry," she says. "She'll make it through okay." What the fuck does that mean? Is there a chance Ana might not make it through? I gasp. Oh my god, is it worse than I know?!

I can hear Ana calling out for me at the end of the hall. My heart races. Something's wrong!

"Ana!" I run to her voice.

"Christian!" Ana looks up at me as I make my way through the OR door, peeking up at me from beneath the billow of what looks like an oversized shower cap. Only Ana can make surgical wear look cute.

"Hey, baby, I'm here." I reach for her hand and kiss her knuckles. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I just need you with me."

"I'm not going anywhere."

After a moment or two focused completely on my girl, I look up. Oh my god, this is a surgery room! I thought it would be more outpatient, but this is full on in! The bright saucer lights and medicinal aroma akin to high school frog dissection invade my senses and I feel my knees starting to wobble at their hinges. I brace myself on the side of the steel table to prevent collapse.

"What's wrong?" Ana asks, watching as I shake each of my legs back to life.

"Nothing! Just revving up." She gives me a look like I'm weird. I thought this was established.

There are so many masked faces and medical tool holding gloved hands in here! Where did they all come from? I can't make out who is who. There has to be a Stephen King novel with this set up. Or a fetish film.

I stroke her left shoulder to comfort her. There's a screen up so she can't see anything. Hallelujah with the choir on that one. But, at least I can, so I'm able to oversee things and make sure they're doing everything right.

"Christian, stop rubbing my breast," she whisper shouts. Oh shit. Not her shoulder.

"Sorry, force of habit." I pull my hand away.

I look over the screen at the tools being lined up. They're metal and shiny and so cold you can tell just by eyeballing them. My masked face is reflected in each like a carnival fun house. The kind where the clowns pop up out of boxes and make the kids cry.

Then I see it. The blade! One of the gloved bunch picks it up and tests its edge. It's so sharp! It looks like something I'd cut a hard cheese with if I was mad at it.

"What are you going to do with that?" I ask, sounding more horrified than I intended. All I get is a look from brown eyes that tell me I don't want to know. I start to sweat.

"Dr. Miller, we're ready for you," Dr. Green says to the Frankenstein like character entering the room.

"Dr. Miller?!" My blade tip fears momentarily subside. "What the fuck is he doing here?!" I shout and all eyes are on me like they're fearing an operating room brawl.

"I'm going to adjust the epidural," Miller says, pulling out his equipment.

"Over my dead body!" Of course, he'd delight in making that happen. Probably in his mother's basement where he has the spare meat locker and the Vitamix blender.

"He knows the case," Dr. Greene says, obviously annoyed.

"He fucked up the case!"

"Shit, I'm having another contraction," Ana says, moaning.

"Case in point!" In about thirty seconds her mouth will be around my dick and not like a popsicle, more like a corn on the cob.

"Mr. Grey, if we don't use Dr. Miller the surgery will have to be delayed," Dr. Greene says.

"Christian," Ana pleads. "Let's get this over with." She throws her head back in pain. She's been through enough and we can't risk waiting.

"Okay, baby," I begrudgingly concede, but keep an extra special eye on Miller.

"Are you steady this time, Mr. Grey?" Dr. Miller asks, sarcastically, as he makes his adjustments. "Don't want you having twins." He chuckles, tipping his head to the goose egg on my forehead. Fuck off.

They're spreading what I think is iodine on her belly. This is really happening. In a few moments they're going to pull the baby out! What if something is wrong with him? What if something happens to Ana? What if he sees me and doesn't like me and wants to go back in? The terrifying possibilities are shooting firing squad style through my brain.

"Do you feel this, Mrs. Grey?" Dr. Miller is tapping her belly with his tool.

"Feel what?" she asks.

"Good, let's go." Dr. Greene orders.

The scalpel is pulled. Oh god! They're going to slice!

"Don't cut the baby!" I yell out and all the masked faces pop up.

"No, Mr. Grey," Dr. Greene says, shaking her head. "But, if you keep yelling out like that, I may slip and cut elsewhere." She gives me a look so sharp it rivals her blade.

"I love you, Christian!" Ana says, squeezing my hand.

The tip touches her lower belly and I wince.

"I love you, too, Ana! More than you'll ever know."

The sharp edge slices across her nether lands. It looks thin at first, but then I see the blood. I think some guts, too. Now more blood. Too much blood! Oh god, what if she's hemorrhaging? Speaking of blood, I think it's all leaving my head.

"Christian, what's wrong?" Ana asks. She must be watching the play by play of what's going on below her waist on my face.

"Nothing! I'm just watching the beauty of childbirth!" What I'm seeing feels less beauty and more beast as they pull her apart and reach in like wolves scavenging the deer for dinner!

"Suction," Dr. Greene calls out and a turkey baster like thing is handed over. Oh god, are they going to suck him out with that?!

"What is it? Tell me!" Ana says. Demanding little thing, even when under the knife.

This is the moment that blurred fog rolls in...

All at once time, gravity and the heart I never thought I had before I had my Ana stop as I see him lifted from her. He's covered in white goop, bloody and fittingly a little gray, but he's the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on, next to his mother, of course.

"It's a boy," I say, the words softly passing my lips as I stand there bewildered, awed and utterly captivated by this little person I'm watching meet life. A living, breathing declaration with five fingers and five toes- yes I've counted- of the love I share with his mother.

Ana starts to cry and I lean down and kiss her brow. "You did so good, baby!"

He wails and we both laugh with a kind of joy I'm feeling for the first time. It's hopeful and filled with a promise of something I can't quite grasp at this moment, but I know will grow as he does. He's got a set of lungs on him that's going to keep his mom and me up at night. God, I'm a lucky bastard.

Dr. Greene motions for me to come behind the little screen and I hurriedly do.

"Want to hold him, Mr. Grey?" she asks, offering him to me.

"I don't know if I know how to do it right."

"Of all the expectant father's I've gone through this with..." she shakes her head, like I've been a handful or something. "You're the one I know will do it right." She smiles and I know she means it. I give her an appreciative nod and she places the child in my arms.

He squirms and wriggles against my chest and I marvel at the fact that it doesn't bother me at all. In fact, it delights me to hold him over my heart. He coos as he looks up at me with blue eyes I've only met once before, when I met her. And again, they instantly have the power to transform me.

It hits me that my mother looked into a baby boy's eyes like this. They were mine. If I was even a fraction of how glorious this child is in my arms, how could she ever turn her eyes away from me? I should hate her even more, now that I know what it is to unconditionally love your child, but I don't. I'm sad for her. She never got to feel this.

The old man was right. I close my eyes and say a thank you to the man upstairs who thought I was better than a lump of shit and for answering the prayer I never thought to ask.

I step back from the screen and hold him up for Ana to see.

"Here's your son, Mrs. Grey." He starts to fuss and I kiss his head. He's got me wrapped around his little finger already.

"Our son," she corrects. She's crying, but they're tears of joy.

"Yes, ours." Emotion catches in my throat. "Thank you, Ana!" And I start to weep. They're tears of joy, too.

#######

"You just open your mouth and latch on," I say to my son as I help him take Ana's breast for his first feeding. He does it with impressive ease.

"See he's pro, like his dad," Ana laughs.

"I am jealous little man," I whisper in his tiny ear. "She's off limits for me for six whole weeks."

"I may let you have a taste before then."

I shoot an eyebrow up. "I'll hold you to that."

I hold his little fingers in mine and marvel at all that's ahead. I'll teach him to throw a ball with that hand, play the piano, write and eventually take the hand of a woman I hope is just like his mother.

"He looks just like you," I say, as I cuddle in with them in Ana's bed, my family, proudly wearing my Papa Grey robe.

"He does not!" Ana says. "He looks just like you!" She touches his face. "He's got your nose and your chin and that hair." She twirls her finger through a shock of his dark copper locks.

"He does have my hair." I kiss his forehead. "He's the most perfect child that has ever been created."

"He is."

She shifts a little a winces.

"Be careful," I say, holding the baby while she adjusts. "You just had major surgery. I don't want you lifting a finger until you're healed."

"Yes, Daddy," she giggles. I kind of like her calling me 'Daddy'. Maybe we can replace it with 'Sir' sometimes when we play.

I am awed, watching them together. She's so good with him. It warms me from a place deep in my heart that I didn't know existed.

I kiss her. I wish I could make love to her in this very moment. Not for sexual gratification, well some, but to really show her the depths of what I feel for her. My lover. My wife. Now, the mother of my child. I never thought that I could love her any deeper or more passionately, but I do. To see her as a mother to my flesh and blood is just, well, more.

"The baby isn't even an hour old and you're at it again!" Eliot says and I break the kiss and look up. He's in the doorway with the whole family. Like clockwork, they arrive as my lips are on Ana's. "Give the lady a day off!"

"Hello, Elliot," I scowl, but I'm not really mad. I want to show off my son.

I lean over to my little man and whisper in an ear too perfect for words. "Time to meet your family."


	8. Chapter 8

**I'll be posting to my other story this week. Here's some more Teddy I had written in the meantime. Thank you for all your reviews! And there will be more Teddy in the future. xo**

 _"If you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow..."_

My Little Prince-

Don't roll your eyes. Your mother says I'm crazy, but I swear you were doing it on that 3D ultrasound and again last night when I rocked you in my arms and told you you were perfection in an eight pound package sent from the angels. You're so much like her already. I can see it in that determined little fist you make. I know you're ready to grow up, purposely defy me and not do as your told, but you have a lifetime for that. Right now, pay attention. This is my letter to your future self, so let your old man have his day. You'll have yours well before I'm ready.

You will not understand this quote for many years. I didn't begin to understand until I met your mother. And only now, watching you snuggled in her arms as she feeds you, do I really get it. Don't think about it too much. It's not something you get by thinking. Nothing really good ever is. One day, when you're much older, and you're sure you have life exactly the way you want it, it'll fall out of nowhere and hit you like a ton of bricks. It fell through my door and landed at my feet. Literally. Even though you don't understand it now, hold onto this quote and remember that your father, who once likened taming to being caged or broken or losing all precious control, gave it to you. Also, remember the way he looks at your mother.

I'm a powerful man. I've worked hard to get to where I am in life, and I hope you will, too. I won't hand you everything on a silver platter or whatever the well-to-do kids are using in this next quarter century to cheat the system, but I will give you whatever you need to get there, including a soft place to land when you screw up. You will screw up, trust me. As your mother can attest, I have done my share of it. But, you have to fall down, scrape your knees a few times and get up in order to learn how to ride a bicycle. I'll teach you that, too. It'll be tough for me to let you learn the hard lessons. I'll want to fix it, shelter you, and lock you up in an ivory tower so no harm can ever come your way. It'll be your mother that will hold me back. As she taught me, being locked up in an ivory tower doesn't save you from anything, it only keeps you locked away.

Listen to your mother. Not everyone is lucky enough to have one like her. She's the one who will kiss your wounds, hold you when you're scared and heal you with her chocolate cake. I know first hand. She'll yell at you when you do wrong and comfort you when you cry. She'll be the first woman you'll ever love and who will love you unconditionally in return. That's worth more than a billion dollars. And unlike most saps who make such comparisons, you can trust me on that, because I know what a billion dollars is really like.

I'm terrified of you. I'm not going to sugar coat it. I don't know the first thing about being a dad. And I want to say in advance, I'm sorry if I screw up. I hope you'll afford me that same soft landing. Just know, I have tried my best. I haven't slept for weeks worrying, reading book after book, trying to figure out how to do it right. Your mother says all I have to do is love you and the rest will fall into place. If that's true, I'll be father of the year, because I do love you with all my heart. I never knew I could. Turns out you can love two people with all of it at once and take nothing away from either. Your mother has always shown me my capacity for more is greater than I realize.

Another thing- Take me for granted. I don't mean to show me disrespect or lack affection, I am still your father after all. I mean, I want you to never doubt my commitment to you and to our family. So take for granted that that I'll always love your mother and we'll always love you. No matter what. And when you leave for school in the morning, don't worry if I'll be there for you at the end of the day. I will be. Always. You're stuck with me, kid.

Okay, get back to your eye rolling. You know it's funny, when anyone else does it it makes me so mad. But, with your mother and now you, it makes me smile. I can't explain it. I guess you could say it's like music calling me out of my burrow...

Dad

#######

I've always had a fascination with doors. The ones that open to something and the ones that close to leave something behind. The ones that slam in rage or widely part in welcome. Or the old ones, weathered by time and vocal when moved, that only a rare key opens. I know the language of doors. Maybe because I spent my early childhood watching one, waiting for my mother to return from God knows where and hoping for someone else not to. It was a closed door that protected me as a boy in my closet. A playroom door that kept my heart locked away. But, it was an open one that she fell through when I wasn't watching that set me free.

The first time I saw Ana, looking up at me from that floor with her blue eyes, I was unlocked. She held that rare key. I thought about her day and night; was consumed with worry for her safety and well being. I didn't want to share her for one single second with anyone else, ever. And if harm came her way, my Claude perfected one-two punch was ready. The ends of the earth became a crossing point, rather than a final destination when it came to how far for her I would go. None of that has changed, except it's happened again. Someone else, too, holds that key to my heart. Someone younger, even more innocent, but with those same blue eyes...

"Theodore Raymond Grey," I say, a swell of pride catching in my throat as I introduce our son to the family. "Teddy for short." He coos on cue, much to the delight of the familial flock of onlookers, wrapped up in my arms in his little duck hooded snugly, as we perch on the edge of Ana's bed. If there was any question of who belongs to who, they'd be notified by the trio of rubber ducky yellow matching family robes we are wearing that this child now owns us.

"Teddy! Like Teddy Bear!" Mia jumps up and down, nearly knocking down a vase of wildflowers. With all of my flowers and the flowers people have sent us, it's like we're living in a new reality show: _When Springtime Attacks._

"He looks like Christian," Kavanagh says. "If he was cute and tiny and wore a little duck head."

"Christian's little duck head!" Elliot roars with laughter only a hyena could appreciate. He and Kate were made for each other.

Everyone's over the moon. Mia squeals. My mother sobs. So does the photographer, for different reasons, I'm sure. When did his father get here? He brings that old man everywhere. He's pleasant enough, but I always get the feeling he's trying to place a voodoo curse on me so Ana can be with his son.

I meet the eyes of my grandfather and hold Teddy, his namesake, up for him to see. He adjusts his wire rimmed glasses on the bridge of his bulbous nose and gives me a nod. It's the same nod he gave me when I hit my first home run in little league, when I headed off to Harvard, and after he saw me kiss my bride.

I remember frolicking in his apple orchard as a boy. Well, Elliot frolicked. I mostly just sat under the shadows of fruit heavy limbs and thought about stuff no child should ever know. There's something tragic about a kid who just sits beneath the branches of good climbing trees. Gramps would join me sometimes and pull out his map. It was a neat old one he said he snagged from a pirate. He'd hold out the tattered paper scroll and say 'Where to, Calamazoo?" I'd point to a random spot and he'd tell me the wild adventures of a copper haired boy who looked a lot like me and wasn't afraid of anything.

"Look at that," my grandmother says, motioning to Grandpa Theo. "You've made this tough old bird cry."

"No, it's just all the damn vegetation in the room," he waves a hand at all the flowers. "Allergies..." Same excuse he used at the wedding. He reaches under his glasses to wipe his eyes.

"Where to, Calamazoo?" I say to my son, so my grandfather can hear. He stops and looks up, no hiding his emotion now.

"I'll have to dig up that map when he gets a little older." My grandfather laughs with childlike glee, his loving, watery eyes resting on my son. "Oh the adventures you will have, little man."

I smile. Adventures of a copper haired boy, who looks a lot like me and who's not afraid of anything.

"We wanted to name him after two of the most important men in our lives," Ana says, a teardrop sliding down her face. I reach over and wipe it away with my thumb. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother smiling at me as I care for my family. She gives me a wink and I know she's proud.

"Oh Annie," Ray says, moving to her and placing a gentle kiss on her head. "You two sure make a beautiful baby." He's right, we sure do. It makes me wonder if how in love the parents are when they create the life has any affect on the child that is born. It may not be science, but I truly believe that part of the reason he's so magical and perfect and angelically beautiful is because he's made of pure love.

"Christian," Ana's voice snaps me back. "Don't you want to ask Kate and Elliot something?"

"Ask them what?"

"What we talked about last week." She shoots a brow up to jog my memory.

"Oh." Fuck. The fight we had, that I lost after a really intense loofah wash in a really hot shower with my really hot girl. I thought with all the laboring and delivering she'd let it slip her mind. "We could do this later-"

"I think now is a good time." She gives me a look whose physical expression would be an elbow in my ribs.

"Elliot. Katherine." I clear my throat. "Since you two are coming together, shortly..."

"Hey, bro. Not in front of Mom." They both laugh.

"Elliot!" Mom just shakes her head.

"Married. You're getting married." Honestly, these two should have box seats in the gutter. "So, Ana wanted to ask you both..."

" _We_ would like to ask you both," Ana says.

"Yes, we." I smile at Ana. "We would like to ask you to be Teddy's godparents."

"Is this for real?" Elliot asks.

"It's not a practical joke." Although, I wish it was. The thought of my brother and Kavanagh second in line to raise my son is terrifying.

"So, I'd be in charge of the baby's religion?" He looks at me like I just blew the smoke and made him Pope.

"No!" I can just imagine it. He'd hand my kid a stack of Hustlers and call it the man bible, and then pop in a porno and call it church.

"Then why do you want me?"

"You're my brother, Elliot. You've always been my best friend."

"Your only friend," he says.

"Yes, well, out of one, you made it to the top."

"Let's do it!" he says, with a hand clap. "I can't wait to teach the little man everything I know."

"Please don't."

"Cute bathrobes, by the way," Elliot says, pointing to the Papa Grey embroidered over the right side of my chest. "You guys kinda look like one of those families that sings together on a bus." I glare at him.

"Don't you have something to say to Kate?" Ana asks like she's asking me, but she's really telling me. Only a husband knows the difference.

"And you, Katherine..." I look at her. She wears that old Kavanagh scowl on her mug. I'm not sure if she's really scowling or she just suffers from resting bitchy face. Either way, it suits her. "I know we haven't always been close..." Understatement of this century, the last one and the one before that. But, in this moment I am sincere and heartfelt. "You're Ana's best friend and well, I would be miserable right now if I met you that fated day. So, thank you. For not doing your job and not showing up."

"Thanks, Grey. Who knew you could be so warm and gushy." She looks to Ana. "I'd be honored." She moves to hug her.

"Watch it there, she's just had major surgery!"

"I'm fine, Christian." Ana smiles, and she and Kavanagh share a weepy cheek to cheek.

"Oh Ana!" With the speedy slink of a serpent who's starved for mouse meat, the photographer moves in for the hug. "We'll always be the three amigos, ladies. Like college forever."

"Get off of her! Both of you! She's got sutures!" I give the photographer an icy glare. The only three amigos in here that will be together forever are the ones wearing the robes!

"Nice bed, Ana," he says to her, while still looking at me, trying to out ice my glare.

"Thanks, Jose," Ana says sweetly." Christian got it for me."

"Did he now?" He keeps icing me down. Good try, asshat. But, I'm a fucking polar bear!

"Yes, he did!" I say, and finally the fucker tucks his camera straps between his legs and goes back to his daddy.

"I want to hold him!" Mia calls out. All of a sudden, like a god damn dam has burst, everyone pushes forward; all non-germ-sanitized hands reaching for him in unison. Jose's even snapping off a few photos.

"Everyone back off from the baby!" I demand, standing with an outstretched palm, like an officer stopping traffic or rather the onslaught of a riot as I serve and protect my son.

"Christian," Ana says, "The family just wants to see him."

"They can see him from afar. He's like fine art. You can't appreciate a piece with your nose smushed into the canvas. It's better from a distance."

She rolls her eyes. "Christian-"

"Ana, there's a reason the Mona Lisa is behind glass. Touchy hands and..." I glare at Jose. "Flash photography."

"I'm surprised he lets you hold him, Ana." Kate gives the patented Kavanagh side eye. She does it so much, I hardly recognize her straight on.

"Well, I have to breast feed," Ana shrugs.

"Don't talk about that in odd company." I don't want anyone, especially the photographer, having images of lips, baby's or not, sucking Ana's nips.

"What's odd about my company?" Elliot asks. Oh, the opening he's given me, but I don't take it.

"Let me hold my grandson," my mother says, talking in the silliest baby talk I've ever heard. Is this how she sounds with her patients? Or is this newly acquired grandmother speak?

"I don't think so, Mom."

"I think it's okay for his grandmother to hold him," Ana says.

"I don't want anyone holding him. Not until he's older."

"When's that?"

"His first birthday sounds like a reasonable goal."

"Are you kidding?"

"He trusts me. I'm his anchor in a scary world. I don't want him to think I'm just passing him off to a perfect stranger!" I look to Grace. "No offense, Mom."

"He's only an hour old, everyone's stranger," Ana says.

"Better the stranger you know, than the stranger you don't."

"Christian."

"Yes?"

"Give the baby to your mother."

"Yes, Mommy," I grumble. I start to break out into a cold sweat. Luckily, my robe is an extra moisture absorbing variety.

"Are you sure you know how?" I ask my mother.

"I'l try to remember what they taught me in medical school." Is she being funny or does she seriously not remember?

I reluctantly hand the baby to her. I brace myself for his crying. It's like someone is knifing my soul every time he cries. He fusses for a second, but she's so good with him, my worry momentarily subsides. As I watch her talk to him and rock him, it really hits me. That's my mother, his grandmother. Not that woman who gave birth to me. The woman who loved me even when I gave her nothing in return, who cried for me when she saw me hurting and my heart was too frozen to cry for myself, and most importantly the one person who never stopped believing that one day I could have all this.

"I love you, Mom."

"Oh Christian," she tears up. "I love you so much. You're going to make such a wonderful father." I smile as Ana takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm going to do my best." I squeeze Ana's hand back as we both watch my mother rock our son to sleep.

"Look at this," Mia reads from her iPhone, bringing us abruptly out of of this soft, tender moment. "Christian Grey, head turning billionaire and father-to-be, marches with moms for "labor" reform." She holds up the phone. There's a picture of me holding up a fist in the air like some sort of revolutionary. Oh god. I look like I've been living on the street for a week.

Ana looks. "Who's calling you head turning?" She's still such the green eyed goddess.

"No one!" I push the phone back towards Mia, hoping nobody has really seen it.

"The Nooz!" Mia says. That fucking Nooz again. Always up my ass.

"Why are you always reading that shit?" And making public announcements about it?

"What were you doing?" Ana asks.

"Nothing! They caught me taking a walk." I look to the photographer and give him a shut the fuck up or else your balls will be hanging on my Christmas tree look.

"Better than taking a leak," Elliot says and he and Kavanagh laugh.

"Are you fighting with police?" my father asks. Leave it to a lawyer to notice details.

"They aren't the police! They're hospital bouncers."

"Is that a bed?" Kavanagh asks.

"Is that my bed?" Ana asks.

"I don't see a bed," I say, looking right at the bed.

"Listen to this!" Mia reads on. "He vows to redo the entire maternity ward and name it in honor of his wife, Anastasia, who is delivering their child as we speak."

"All right, Mia! Enough!"

Ana looks at me and I'm not sure what she's thinking. "That's so sweet. Were you going to surprise me with this?"

"Uh, yes." I smile. "Surprise."

The baby starts to cry and on instinct I rush over and scoop him up from my mother's arms.

"Okay, everyone out. He's hungry." I point to the door.

"Why do we have to go?" Elliot asks. "We could all have sandwiches."

"He's breastfeeding!"

"Elliot is not trying to look at anything," Kavanagh says. "He has me."

"Good, go outside and show him something."

"We'll check in later," my mother says and scoots Elliot along.

I usher them all out as they say their goodbyes to Ana and the baby. Ana squints her eyes and twists her mouth, looking at me with suspicion, after I shut the door and they're all gone.

"You know full well I just fed Teddy before they got here. And he's stopped crying now."

"So he has." I stroke his little cheek. "And now the three of us can be alone."

"But, that's our family."

"And I love them. In segments." She giggles as I sit down with Teddy next to her on the bed. "I just want to be with my little family right now ." She smiles and rests her head on my shoulder in that tender way she does. I lean forward to kiss my son, inhaling his lovely scent. "He smells like you."

"I hope his diaper isn't dirty." She laughs.

"No, fresh like apples."

"I smell like apples?"

"I never told you that?"

"No."

"It's one of the first things I noticed about you."

"That I smelled like I apples?" She crinkles her nose and I nod. "I hope you like apples."

"I love apples." I nuzzle her hair and take a good sniff, which makes her giggle. "I especially love a good apple pie."

"Maybe in in six weeks." I give her ear a little nibble. "What else did you notice about me?"

"That you wore a lot of jeans." We both laugh. Then, I rest my head on top of hers. "I remember you talking about having kids in a few years when we were in Georgia driving that morning I took you soaring..."

"Oh yes, we were talking about your overzealous interest in my period." She laughs.

"It made me sad." She stops laughing and just watches me. "I thought you having a baby would have to be with someone else and I didn't want you to be with anyone else, ever."

"Little did you know a few months later..." She smiles against my neck as she touches our little boy's cheek.

"I'm so glad you left me."

"Me, too." She sighs, contented, snuggling into me. She puts her hand on the center of my chest. I can't believe I used to be scared of her touching me there. I put my hand over hers as her palm rests on my heart.

"That's so sweet of you to redo the maternity ward. But, what's the real truth?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can't fool me. There's more to this story." Of course I can't.

"Let's just say you have this bed because of it."

"So, it was my bed!" I nod. "Wait." She lifts her head up and eyes me. "You agreed to redo an entire hospital floor to get me a bed?"

"Not just a bed. An adjustable queen with heating and massage options."

"That's crazy."

"It's not crazy. It's smart business."

"How so?"

"The next time we do this, the room will be all ready. We won't have to send out for everything. Cost effective."

"Next time?" she asks, her eyes light.

"Next time." I smile and kiss the tip of her nose. "I think we're going to have to keep coming back to get our money's worth."

"Oh really?" I can tell she's surprised, but delighted.

"I'm a shrewd businessman. I want my investment to pay lots of little dividends."

"You want more?" she asks, her blue eyes sparkling up at me.

"Yes, Mrs. Grey. I always want more with you." I cover her mouth with mine. Sealing the deal with a kiss.

I don't remember what I looked like on the day I was born, or if my mother held me. Nobody took a photo, or if they did it was lost or forgotten or left behind. Maybe somebody's looking at it now and wondering who the hell I am. I wondered that for a long time. Seeing my son today, in Ana's arms, I finally know and I can lay all of that to rest. He's the only blood I have in all the world and, of course, my Ana gave him to me. Another first...

#######

"Why did you put it in backwards?" I ask, examining the car seat in the back seat of the SUV.

"That's how it's supposed to be," Taylor says, matter of factly.

"Who says?

"The law, sir."

"Well, why do they make it forward if it's supposed to be backwards?"

"You're supposed to put it forward later."

"When is that?"

"According to the manual, when he's two."

"Two? I'm not going to squeeze him into this thing when he's two! I'll buy him a new one."

"I have to say, sir, this is one of the nicest car seats I've ever seen."

"Well, I didn't want all of us riding around in luxury, while he's sitting in some plastic shit." Christ, I can remember Ana taking me to that God forsaken _Baby Town_ or _Kids on the Cheap_ or whatever the fuck it was called...

 _"Why are we here, Ana?" I ask, pushing a cart that's the size of our guest bathroom down an aisle of a warehouse. Why is everything in suburbia sold in glutinous quantities in warehouses now? And why am I taking part in this consumer madness? Taylor could've done this. He likes warehouse type areas. Reminds him of his war days._

 _"To register for my baby shower." She lifts up a little hand held scanner I didn't know she swiped. She's got a quick wrist, that one. I know it well._

 _"Anastasia, put the gun down!" I think I said it a little too loudly. A mother with a brood of four hanging off her cart just alerted security, or rather the ninety year old man standing guard over the thousand count diapers in an economy crate, who probably wears diapers of his own. I give him a wave to say all is okay. What's she doing here with four kids, anyway? Doesn't she have everything she needs by now?_

 _"It's customary." Ana rolls her eyes. Why does she insist on having one of these ridiculous parties? And worse, it's not going to be some ladies high tea that she can have at the house while I golf. She wants it to be co-ed, so I have to sit with a bunch of idiot fathers-to-be from Lamaze, my brother and the photographer eating blue cake and guessing how many jelly beans are in the jar for prizes._

 _"For people with no money. It looks tacky for us to ask for gifts."_

 _"Why is it tacky?"_

 _"Because we're billionaires! It's like you're Marie Antoinette asking the impoverished for their cakes. And we all know what happened there." I can't believe this place sells rubber nipples by the double dozen. Reminds me of that online sex store I used to use._

 _"Nobody coming is impoverished and we're giving them cake. They want to give us something. It's not about money. It's about love." She scans a thermometer that goes up the ass and a breast pump. How is this place for babies? Half of it is X-rated. There's a picture of a tit being suctioned right on the box!_

 _"I don't need any love from the photographer and neither do you." I take the breast pump out of her hands and put it back on the shelf. "I'm the only one who gets to buy you that!"_

 _"Christian!"_

 _"They can all leave us alone. That's gift enough for me." I take look at a display. A picture of a baby boy with some paper cone like thing covering his man parts and a caption that reads: 'Don't be caught sprayed again'. "What's a Pee Pee Teepee?"_

 _"Something they'll give us at the shower." She scans it. "Let's just pick out his car seat."_

 _I follow her down an aisle that I'd have to look both ways if I was crossing. Trying to turn this thing is like picking up a house and moving it next door with a shovel._

 _"Fine, I'll buy it for our son. Not some shirttail relative and especially none of those idiots from Lamaze."_

 _"They are not idiots. You liked Simon. You were laughing."_

 _"At him, not with him." Simon. Anything he says to do, I don't._

 _"Can I help you folks?" An overly friendly man in a shirt with the company line- '_ _We Go Goo Goo Over Deals for Baby, So You Don't Go Ga Ga Over the Bill'-_ _comes up._

 _"We're looking for a quality car seat, but we don't want to spend a fortune,"Ana says, efficiently. I swear, she can never get used to the idea that she's rich._

 _"Yes, we do, Ana," I say, adamantly. "We want to spend as much as we can on it. Why don't you want to spend money when you shop?"_

 _"You're the first husband I've heard say all that," the little fucker man laughs._

 _"Just show us what you have," Ana says, giving me a look that tells me to shut my mouth or I'm not getting sex tonight. I zip it, so I can unzip it later._

 _"This is the best deal," he says pointing to something plastic, with padding so thin, it would be jealous of a pancake._

 _"We don't need a deal! Show us the ones that aren't on sale."_

 _"Well, you came to the wrong place." He laughs, pointing to the tag line on his shirt._

 _"Yes, I think we did." I try to move the cart, but a fast getaway isn't possible with this monstrosity. At least they can be assured nobody will get away with that double dozen of nipples easily._

 _"Christian!"_

" _This is foam, Ana. My child will not sit on foam." I look to the little man. "Stop with the build up. Show us your best!"_

 _"This is our most expensive." He points to another one, but it's only $10 more._

 _"It's the same thing!"_

 _"In red. Limited edition."_

 _"Why is red $10 more?"_

 _"I thought you didn't care about a deal?" He laughs. This fucker is getting on my nerves._

 _"Don't you have anything higher end, soft leather, in a sleek chrome, ergonomic and adjustable with top safety rankings?"_

 _"If you want to buy a car, you got the wrong dealer," he laughs._

 _"That's it!"_

 _"What's it?" Ana asks, looking concerned._

 _"I know where we're getting our son's car seat!"_

 _"Here!" the sales guy says._

 _"No!" I say back._

 _"Where?" Ana asks._

 _"Where else? Audi."_

"I didn't know they could make a car seat at Audi," Taylor says, stroking the fine leather that matches the interior of the SUV perfectly.

"I am their best customer. They'll do anything for me." They're already making plans for a miniature R8 for his 5th birthday.

"Sir," Sawyer says on approach, consulting with a walkie talkie. I think he likes looking like he's part of the secret service.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Mrs. Grey and the baby..." he says it so seriously.

"What about them?" My chest tightens in panic.

"They have been released." Why does he only speak one sentence at a time? Is it just to fuck with me?

"Where?" My breath escapes me, fearing they've been thrown out there somewhere in the wilds of downtown Seattle.

"They're in the room, waiting to go home."

I find air again. "I'll be right up." I look to Taylor. "Ana and the baby are ready!" I think I screamed it, because a woman close by nearly lost her walker to some hydrangea bushes.

"I heard, sir. I was standing here with you." Is he trying to be cute? Fucker.

"I'm going to get them now. Do your duty!"

I rush off, doubling my paces up the hospital walk, fighting my way through a crowd of paparazzi out front. Questions are thrown at me by "reporters"- 'Mr. Grey, how's the baby?' 'What's the name?', 'Sex?', to which I reply 'Yes!' as I wave them off with an erect middle finger. Taylor's pulling the car out back, so Ana and Teddy will miss all of this. No one is getting a picture of my son to sell to Harvey Levin!

As I round the hallway corner, I see flashes coming from Ana's room. Oh my god, one of the paps has broken in and cornered my family. I race to her door.

"Smile for me, Ana." It's the photographer! He's taking pictures of my mother and my son. Well, Ana, not my mother. But, she belongs to me and she's mother to my child, so technically my thoughts can be construed as correct.

"What the hell is going on here?" I ask and the flashing abruptly halts.

"Jose stopped by to take a few pictures of me and Teddy before we left." Ana says, like it's nothing.

"I'm sure he did. Why?"

"Just some photos for the baby book I'm making," Jose says. He's making a baby book?!

"Okay, let me rephrase the question- Why?"

"It's my gift to you."

"To me?!" Is this man really that depraved? I grit my teeth. "Well, isn't that considerate of you," I say with sarcastic bite. "Taking photos of my wife and son in bed when I'm out of the room."

"No problem!"

"I have a problem!"

"Christian," Ana says, stopping me from solving all of our problems with my fists on his face. You hear about those celebrities who beat the shit out of photographers for taking pictures of their families. I'm suddenly their fan club president. Only those photographers just want to make a sale, this one wants to make my family his own.

"Okay, here's one for the baby book, Jose." I sit on Ana's bed, my arms around her and the baby. "My wife, my son, and me. Mi familia. Got it?"

Jose reluctantly raises the camera and takes a shot. He gets the picture.

"Make this page número uno and get me a wall size print," I say. Although, he'll probably just cut my head out and photoshop his in for his daddy's latest voodoo curse.

"Sure thing." He smiles, but only for Ana's benefit. "Take care Ana, I'll drop by with the photos next week." She waves and he takes off.

"No, dropping anywhere! Taylor will pick them up!" I yell as he leaves, but he doesn't turn back. Fucker. He's all wham, flash, thank you, ma'am.

"Christian, you don't have to be rude."

"Rude? I'm rude?!" I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to temper the volcano about to erupt in my body. "I tell him not to take any pictures and as soon as I leave the room it's like his camera exploded all over you." Kind of like his two inch dick when he beats off to his pictures of Ana.

"The photos are for us," she says. For posterity."

"Oh, trust me, he keeps copies for his own posterity."

"You're being ridiculous."

"He still wants in your panties."

"I just had your child," she says, like that's an explanation.

"That makes a guy like him want you even more. Now he knows you produce solid male offspring."

"But, I don't want him. I want you." She kisses me and immediately I melt.

"We have our own camera, if you recall, Mrs. Grey. From now on I take all the pictures and I make the baby book." She kisses me again. Argument over.

"Okay, time to go home," says that nurse, interrupting our conversation as she enters the room. She's back. The one with the Miss Piggy pageant ringlets and the fake pink nails. "Let's get you out of bed, Mrs. Grey." Ana passes the baby to me as the nurse drags her up.

Ana cries out in pain, holding her belly.

"She's just had surgery!" I rush up, place Teddy in the bassinet, and take Ana in my arms and away from Nurse Piggy. "Do you get some sort of perverse pleasure out of watching her suffer?" Did I just ask that? The irony is not lost on me, and judging from Ana's giggle, on her, either.

"She has to walk," Nurse Piggy says. "It's part of recovery. Plus, that baby will have her hopping faster than a grasshopper in a sack run."

"I wasn't aware grasshoppers had sporting events. I don't know where you are from, but around here new mothers and insects in sack runs are not comparable."

"How's that?"

"My wife needs to heal, so during this time I will do all of the walking and hopping for the family, thank you very much."

"Christian, I'm fine," Ana says, but I can see her wince.

"No you're not." I help sit her in the wheelchair. "Let me take care of you, Ana." She brushes my cheek with her fingertips. "I want to take care of both of you." Panic suddenly strikes and I fly up. "Where's the baby?"

"Teddy's in the bassinet," Ana says. "Where you just put him."

I race over to my little man and scoop him up.

"I'm sorry I left you alone, son." I cuddle him and kiss his forehead. Nurse Piggy looks at me like I'm crazy, Ana just looks at me like usual.

"I think he's going to be more of a handful for you than that baby," the nurse chuckles.

"So, what do we do now?" I ask her, but she seems more interested in one of her cracked talons than my question.

"You go home, live your lives and make him go to college." She snorts a laugh, living up to her ringlets.

"There's a lot stuff between going home and college," I bite. "I can't believe you just let babies go out there into the world. What if parents don't know what the fuck they're doing? Don't we get a manual or something?"

"I gave you a pamphlet in Mrs. Grey's going home bag." With one free hand, I pull it out and look at it.

"Half of it's on nipple care! I already know all about that. There's no real directions about the baby! Where do I find detailed information?"

"Google." She gives me patronizing smile. "Good bye Mrs. Grey." She walks out. She and Dr. Greene must come from the same school of work ethic—breaks every five and charge by the word.

"Maybe we should hire a nurse to help us along," Ana says.

"No, we'll take care of our child. I don't want some stranger doing it for us. We have my mother and Gail.

"But, with my c-section I won't be able to do as much as I wanted. We can't ask them to do everything."

"I told you, I've taken off some time. Aside from breast feeding and mother-son bonding, whatever needs to be done, I'll do it. Just call mr Mr. Megalomaniac Mom."

She laughs. "It has a nice ring to it. But, are you sure?" She looks at me with concern. I'm not certain if it's for my over-taxed workload when we get home or my sanity.

"Yes. Plus, I have Taylor to help me and we've got the whole operation down. Trust me, it'll run smooth as silk."

#######

"Slow down!" I yell out to Taylor as the three of us sit in the back of the SUV. I hold a protective arm out over the baby and Ana, so they won't fly through the windshield.

"I just pulled away from the curb, sir."

"Well, stop doing it like you're a bat escaping hell. You're terrifying the child."

"Christian, he's asleep." Ana says, pointing to our little man, who's gurgling contentedly, as he sinks into the soft leather, in his own little dreamland.

"I don't want to give him nightmares!" That's a great fear of mine. I will do whatever it takes to make sure his sleep is never troubled.

"He's fine," Ana says, stroking my shoulder. "You need to relax. I don't want you having a heart attack before he's a week old."

I touch his cheek. He coos. "I think he likes me, Ana," I marvel. I was so afraid he might not.

"He loves you. Like me." She kisses my cheek. "You're very easy to love." I take her hand and kiss her fingers. I'm a lucky bastard.

I straighten his crooked collar. As a man, I'll teach him keep himself looking sharp. I can't wait to have his first gray suit made. It should be ready next week. He's in a going home outfit Mia brought him. It's got little paws for mitts and a hood with bear ears and 'Bear Bum' written on the rump. It's cute, but cliche.

"Ana, we need to talk," I say, in all seriousness.

"About what?" She looks at me like I'm about to say I've got a diseased limb that needs to be cut off or I'm leaving for war in the morning.

"I don't want Teddy wearing bear outfits all the time just because of his name."

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yes. Everyone and my mother is throwing bear wear at us! It's not healthy. It'll give him a complex."

"He's three days old."

"Three days turns into twenty-four years and working the fast food service window because you were humiliated by your parents as a child..." She's fighting laughter, but I don't care. My point needs to be made. "What if Ray dressed you like that crazy Russian princess, just because of your name? Or my father made me some biblical character?"

"That would be so wrong." No fighting it anymore, she bursts out laughing.

"I mean it. I want to incorporate other animals into his wardrobe."

I can see Taylor eyeing me from the review mirror and even he's chuckling.

"What are you laughing at, Taylor?"

"Nothing, sir. Just thinking how much the backseat conversation has changed in a year." He looks so fucking delighted laughing at me.

"Yes, well. I'm glad I'm amusing to you two, but this is a matter of all seriousness."

"Okay, Christian," Ana says. "We'll add more ducks and frogs."

"And manly animals like tigers and horses and elephants."

"Elephants are manly?"

"Of course!"

"Dumbo?"

"No, I don't want him to want to be an actor," I snort.

"I'll talk to Caroline Acton on Monday," Ana says. Now they're both laughing. I have to admit, even though it's at my expense, it is kind of infectious. It's nice to be riding home with our baby in a happy car.

"No chickens!" I say, and they're both in hysterics. Yes, things have certainly changed. I have to laugh, myself.

#######

"Oh, he's just beautiful!" Gail says, looking at the baby in my arms. "I don't think I've ever seen a more perfect little one!" I smile. She's right.

"Just think, we weren't supposed to meet him for three whole weeks," Ana says, leaning over and kissing his toes. "I just wish we had finished the nursery." I smile, with something up my sleeve.

"About that. I have a few surprises for you," I look down at my son and whisper in his tiny ear. "For both of you."

"What kind of surprises?"

I catch Gail smiling as she moves to the kitchen. "I'll work on your dinner."

"Come," I hold out my hand to Ana and she takes it. "Let me show you his playroom." I wink and she giggles.

We walk hand-in-hand down the hall and stop at the last door, directly across from the master suite. I turn the knob and open the door to Teddy's new wonderland. Ana's eyes light up as she takes it all in.

"Christian, this is amazing." The room smells of lavender and vanilla with a faint hint of sugar, like when you pass by a candy store and you're drawn inside. The aromatic system I had installed is working.

Lights on the dark blue and purple swirled ceiling, made to look like stars, twinkle.

"It's like sleeping under a night sky," she says, in awe, I think.

"If he cries or fusses, there's a sensor that turns a night light up and a lullaby plays." I press a button and the mobile of blue birds above his gray wooden crib illuminates and turns in time with a soft melody.

"That's beautiful."

"I don't ever want him to have nightmares."

I flip a light switch to reveal walls of sky blue, dusted with soft white clouds. A mural of a boy on a small planet, tending to a glass covered rose is painted, along with the words ' _All grown ups were children once, but only few remember it'_.

"The Little Prince," she says. "I'm speechless."

"Here," I lead her to her rocker, draped with a patchwork quilt, and help her sit, then place the baby in her arms.

"It's all so beautiful," she says. "It's like you bought out FAO Schwartz." She looks out to a toy chest with his name painted on it that's heaping with blocks and games and stuffed animals of so many species, Noah would be envious. A life sized toy baby giraffe overlooks a real cotton candy machine, next to a child sized Ferris wheel that turns with stuffed animal passengers in every car. A carousel of fine hand painted horses turns in the far corner.

"I kind of did," I say with a smile, marveling as a fair plays out in his room. I even got one of those gigantic pianos you put on the floor. I figure he can learn that way and I can have fun teaching him happy songs.

"You're going to spoil him, Daddy."

"Good. It's my life's mission to spoil both of you." I kneel down beside her and give her a quick kiss. "This is for Teddy." I reach to the end table and pick up a white papered package tied with lavender ribbon and hand it to her. She slides the bow off and rustles the paper to open it. Teddy, distracted by the noise, fusses a bit, but Ana strokes his face and he falls back to sleep. She's so good with him.

"Oh, Christian." She discards the paper to reveal a first edition of 'The Little Prince'. "This is unbelievable."

"I know he probably won't be able to read for a few years yet.."

"Probably," she teases.

"Hey, he's an exceptional child." I pat his belly and he gurgles. "But, I figured my first gift to you was a set of first editions, so I should give him one, too."

She smiles, then touches my face. I can see she's getting weepy.

"Thank you, Daddy." She lifts him up and waves his little bear paw covered hand. I, of course, can't resist kissing it.

"Don't thank me. It's what I do."

"What's this?" She pulls out an envelope addressed to our son that's nestled between the pages at the appropriate quote.

"It's a letter I want him to have in a few years." She kisses it and puts it back in its place, reading the bookmarked page.

"I love the part where he tames the fox," she looks up at me, knowing.

"I do now, too." I kiss her softly.

"I love the gifts." She smiles contentedly and lays her head back, softly rocking back and forth in her chair, cradling our child.

"Hey, don't get too comfortable. I'm not done." I reach over to the end table. "Don't think I forgot about you, Mrs. Grey." I open the drawer and pull out a red box she's familiar with.

"You didn't have to get me anything. It's too much."

"Ana, please. Open it." I'm so excited, I'm about to burst.

She smiles as she slowly lifts the lid to the box. When she gasps, I know she's seen it.

"Christian!" She lifts out the necklace I had made for her. A large dazzling green emerald surrounded by diamonds hanging from a platinum and diamond roped chain. "This is like a crown jewel. It must've cost a fortune."

"Do you like it?" That's all I care about.

"I love it. It's breathtaking." I smile, knowing she's pleased.

"It's an emerald, which is our son's birthstone and it's surrounded by diamonds. Like wedding diamonds. Symbolizing us. We'll always be with him."

"It's perfect." A large teardrop falls off her lashes.

"Like both of you." I kiss her and him, then move behind her to help put it on.

"I wish I could give you something so beautiful." She touches the jewel, gently.

I look down at our child. "This is nothing compared to what you've given me." I kiss the side of her head and secure the clasp. Standing, I admire her. "Stunning," I say, and I'm not talking about the jewel.

Teddy starts to fuss.

"I think he's hungry," she says.

"I'll let you feed him while I check with Gail on our dinner. You need to eat, too, Mrs. Grey."

I stand up and walk to the door and before leaving, I turn around. Ana is cuddling our son as he nurses, rocking back in forth in her chair. The starlight from the ceiling sparkles down on both of them as the lullaby floats in the air. He looks so much like me and she is nothing like my mother. She's an angel. I never thought it was possible to love Ana anymore than I do, but in this moment, as she feeds and loves and comforts my son, my heart is near bursting. The heart I told her I didn't have. With her, everyday, my heart grows so much more.

She looks out the window at the sunset. "It's a beautiful view," she says.

"My favorite," I say, not taking my eyes off of them.

As I make my way to the kitchen, I marvel at these past few days. We're finally home, with our son. I'm finally home with my family.

I can't wait for more.


End file.
